The Truth is Beneath Your Eyes
by Artemis of Aquarius
Summary: Christine reveals to Raoul that she had a little sister who she lost a long time ago. At the same time, a new girl arrives at the opera house catching the eyes of our dear phantom. But if she's Christine's long lost sister, why can't she remember her?
1. Prologue

Prologue

It was winter in France. The cold ripped at everything from the trees to the very last strand of grass in the fields of the country. Icicles dripped from the tips of trees and homes. Nearly everything in sight was buried under a mound of snow. Citizens rushed indoors and bolted all open creaks and crevices possible to plug out the cold and bitter climate.

The de Changny Manor stood massive on the outskirts of Paris, enveloped in as much snow. Its color and decorative hue was blanketed by the heavy whiteness.

Through one of the frosted windows, a woman stared out into the frozen and glossy land before her. Her face was blank and empty, almost as if the world would fall by her gaze. But it was a memory of a winter long ago that disturbed her all the more. Through her blank and endless gaze, lied a pain and sadness that had gnawed a whole in her heart for what felt like an eternity. A black hole that served a vortex to her memories.

A fire burned in the room she stood in, but she was cold. She had been standing at the window searching for something that she kept promising herself that she would find in this vast wasteland, but it revealed nothing to her. She was alone.

The door opened into the room and her husband entered. Raoul de Changny worried about his wife. He was afraid she was ill, but she looked as healthy as ever. But Raoul started to recognize a pattern in this very situation. He remembered her like this as well during the winter of the year before and he could recall it was this very day as well. Even though, nothing was physically wrong with Christine Daae, he realized something mentally was bothering his wife. He didn't dare to even think about the events that occurred three years ago, something that nearly traumatized both him and Christine. He was fine, but he was worried all the more for his dear wife. Then again, he wondered why on this day, why was Christine acting like this? He couldn't remember anything important that occurred on this specific date. With utmost caution, he slowly approached his wife.

"Christine," he spoke her name so as to not startle her. "Are you all right? The maids told me that you have been in here all day. Is everything to your liking?"

His wife didn't speak, her figure and face remained unmoved and she looked to be in a trance. Raoul was correct about something being wrong, but what could it be so that she wouldn't even turn around to face her husband.

Raoul looked about the small furnishings of the room almost trying to distract himself from the objective at hand, but no matter what, his eyes strayed back to his wife. He was in great fear of her going insane and he desperately did not want to see her off to some asylum or institution. He loved her too much.

"Raoul," her timid, mouse-like voice broke the silence that captured them both. To Raoul, it was small flicker in the dark that enlightened his fears.

"Raoul, there is something I should tell you," her voice was dull and monotoned, but she turned a little to look at Raoul. "Something happened a long, long, long time ago. It was before I met you, before I arrived at the opera house. Before the death of my father."

She paused and breathed very deeply, but almost alarmingly. Raoul was about to call a maid, but she stopped him before her could utter a word.

"No, Raoul," she protested, "I'm fine, but this is something that happened a very, very long time ago......when Paris was at war. I-I-I-I had a...........sister."

Raoul's eyes widened in absolute shock, but he breathed and composed himself to balance him from any effect. He needed to be strong for Christine.

A _sister!_

Christine had a sister. Raoul wanted to demand why she hadn't told him before, but he reminded himself that she was in a very delicate state and this wasn't the time to act reckless.

She knew though to the full extent of his shock. She knew how hard it was for him to accept this. A gentle hand laid on her shoulder and she placed a hand on his.

"I didn't tell you Raoul because it was too painful for me to confront this," she explained answering his silent question as she continued her endless gaze out the window. "Yes, I had a sister. A little sister. Only five-years-old. When Paris was at war, my father thought it best to leave and flee to the countryside. We had everything packed and we decided to leave by train......" She paused yet again with tears on the brim of her bright blue eyes, filled with despair. Her plush pink lips quivered as if about to burst into tears. She tried to swallow her pain to finish her tale, but it was impossible.

"I...I...I was seven-years-old, but I remember it as if it were yesterday. My little sister, I-I was suppose to watch her at the train station. I remember how she looked exactly. Her little blue coat wrapped around her tiny body. Her hair was bouncing like little curls around her face. But her eyes, Raoul. Her eyes....they were the most distinct shade of violet that I ever saw. And they still haunt me, they way her eyes looked. And it on this day Raoul. It was on this day, when a winter was this blunt," the tears escaped and trailed down her porcelain face. "I..I was supposed t-to watch her. I was....holding...onto her hand. But we got l-lost in a crowd. E-everyone was pushing......and shoving each other. I.....I let go.....of her hand. Next thing I knew, she.....she.....she was gone. All I saw were people everywhere blocking my view. She disappeared."

Raoul couldn't almost handle this story. It was breaking his heart as well. He wanted to say something, but he was speechless.

"W-when my father found me, we went searching through all the crowds, looking for her," Christine wiped away her tears. "We asked around and everyone that we saw if they saw a little girl with a blue coat and violet eyes. No matter what we did, we couldn't find her. My father and I hoped that she was maybe on the train......hopefully looking for us as well. We searched around desperately, but still no trace of her whatsoever."

Raoul wanted to say something, anything really to comfort her, but he continued to simply hold her as the tears streaked down her face. She still kept her eyes to the window with her back to Raoul.

The pain seeped through Christine's memories like an acid trail burning her past and thoughts. All things spiked her poor soul. She hadn't remembered so much pain since the last three years when the incident at the Paris Opera House occurred. What occurred three years ago was revolting, but nothing like the tragedy of her sister could match what pain she felt now.

Christine sniffed away more tears. "My father and I searched for her for a year, asking people if they had seen her, placing notices in the paper but we.....we....eventually came to believe.....she......she.....was.....dead."

At the immediate last word, Christine burrowed herself into Raoul sobbing more than she ever thought she could sob in her life.

Raoul held her; comforting her and trying to calm her. He cooed, stroking her hair.

"Everything will be all right," Raoul promised, wishing that if he had the power, he would try all he could to bring back her sister.

Christine listened to Raoul's words through her cries, but she had been carrying the blame for the disappearance of her sister for years. How could his simple words just make that all disappear? For fifteen years, she blamed herself, for not watching her sister, for letting go of her hand. Why couldn't she have spotted her sister in that congregation? She couldn't forget, it had haunted her for years and even when the truth came out, it only gnawed at her soul even more.

_Sofia........._

Her name seemed to echo about the room as if there were a ghost.


	2. New Arrival

**Author's Note: Sorry readers about Chapter 2 being the same as Chapter 1. I'm still new to fanfiction, so I'm still figuring out all the knots and tangles. Sorry for the confusion. I was having problems updating. **

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Chapter One

New Arrival

Spring was merciful to the citizens of France and arrived early. However there was another reason to celebrate other than the end of winter. A new reason that brought more joy to the citizens.

After three years of reconstruction and remodeling, the Paris Opera House had been restored to its splendor and it was only much more beautiful and magnificent than ever before. Much more grand than when it was before the fire. It still resembled the former opera house with its golden walls and the dome atop with a statue of an angel holding out a harp high to the heavens to bring music back to this once haunted place.

It was believed that the phantom had disappeared since that faithful night, but in truth, even the authorities had no idea where the phantom had gone to. But since they found no trace of him in the opera ruins, they believed he must have fled as well. It was only hope that with this new grand opening of the restore opera that it would chase away all the horrid memories of the fire from three years ago.

The people of Paris stood outside their doors and watched as the old company members returned and as new ones were hired. Most prominent of these returning characters were Madame Giry and her daughter, Meg. Even they were awed by the new restorations.

Carlotta also disappeared that night of the fire. She had grieve for the death of Piangi and most likely wouldn't allow herself to return. However some thought that she grieved for him so much that she herself went insane. No one was sure, but in its effect, no one actually cared.

A carriage rode up to the entrance to the opera house. It was a modest carriage that wasn't boasting of any grand wealth, nor was it one that promoted such poverty as well. A well, modest carriage.

The door of the carriage opened and young woman stepped out. She was only twenty years old with strong determination and will. She had long wavy copper brown hair with a heart-shaped face and pale complextion. What was more astonishing about her physical features were her eyes. They were such an impressive shade of violet that no one could capture on a painting palette. Standing five feet and seven inches she was well proportioned in the black day dress she was wearing. Her arms hidden under the white puffed sleeves of a blouse she wore under her dress.

"Would you like any help in carrying your luggage?" a footman appeared before her.

The young woman smiled. "Well, no, but thank you. I can manage. Besides, I only have a small trunk of my belongings."

The foot man stared at the small trunk he could spot in the carriage. "But, Miss, that trunk looks about ten pounds by itself. Are you sure you can carry it yourself?"

The girl was almost sick of hearing him treat her almost as if she were a weak, little girl. To prove she could handle the weight of her luggage, she picked it out of the carriage herself as if it were half its weight. It nearly startled the foot man.

She smiled one last time at the foot man who was still staring at her like she was something he thought he could never find in his lifetime. The girl walked in the house, carrying her trunk, triumphant almost. This woman was no weak little girl. She learned to manage herself.

Two men stood by the doors into the house, introducing themselves to everyone and asking for everyone's names. These two were the idiotic managers of three years ago. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin had no trouble in returning back to manage the opera. Even though they had been labeled as the blundering idiots, they did have a love for the arts.

The young woman walked up to them with a smile on her face, more for the very thought of being here.

"Good day, miss," Andre greeted with cheery delight. "I am Mons. Andre and this is my partner, Mons. Firmin. We are the managers of this property and may we inquire to what your name should be? We must ask this of everyone, before they enter."

"Well, Monsieurs," the young woman managed to reach around her trunk and shake hands with them both. "My name is Alethea Lanquerx."

"Well, what a beautiful name," Firmin commented, "You don't hear names like that anymore. Oh, my Andre, we're getting old. Well, thank you, Miss Lanquerx, please step inside."

Alethea stepped into the opera house, finding herself in the grand room where she saw the marble staircase reach up in the theater like arms yearning for the music. It was beautiful with its pillars that danced with bright and kind colors. The sky dome above that shined some much sunlight into here.

Even her parents had told her to come here. It was much more than just the physical beauty this place beheld, but her parents encouraged her to come her to blossom her talents in playing the piano. She was quite talented in that.

What excited her more than that was the mystery this place beheld. Yes, she had heard wide tales of the opera ghost who so haunted this house three years ago. Oh she wished she could have been here when that incident occurred. But she heard the tales of the infamous opera ghost and his obsession with Christine Daae.

_Christine Daae._

Why did that name seem so familiar? It was more than hearing about her from the news or from the opera. But much more. For some reason, Alethea seemed to feel a closeness to the opera singer who also fled this place. But it seemed so familiar to her, as if she knew Christine Daae somehow in another way.

Her thoughts were disturbed as more people crowded into the room. It was once a peaceful atmosphere, now crowded with people. If only it would have last longer.

Andre and Firmin fought through the crowd to get to the top of the grand staircase. It was an immense struggle as it was filled with people.

Once they made it to the top, a stage-fright sort of feeling overcame them. They were almost sweating like there was no tomorrow. Andre managed to pull through. He hacked some mucus from his throat to clear it, which disgusted the audience a little.

"People, people!" Andre cried out like a helpless child, but he composed himself in an attempt to seem like the intimidating manager he wanted to be. When the audience quieted down, he spoke. "Thank you all for coming here today to become part of the new opera company. We hope for a new beginning that will overshadow the past events that occurred here, if some of you can remember. Well, no more talk of that. I see old members returning back to us and I welcome those who have come to us, new. Well, if you will please, follow Firmin and I into the theater, where you may sit in the audience anywhere you like and we will properly introduce rules and guides."

Everyone immediately chased after the pair up the stairs into the theater. The adrenaline and rush the people received by just being here was enough to inspire them to the best of their abilities.

Alethea was amused by everyone. She didn't see them as fools or any of the sort, but she believed that it was inspiring to be so driven. She was like that as well. It was almost new to be surrounded by more people like that.

She trailed along behind the rest of the group into the theater, where she found a more beautiful discovery of inner magnificence. The actual theater where the stage was constructed, was most likely the room that had the most remodeling done with it. The boxes had been refurbished with more Greek-like statues and structures etched in the golden marbling. Red velvet served as plush cushions in the audience chairs. The orchestra pit was rebuilt with more room for the instruments and musicians. And most prominently, the crystal chandelier was yet again suspended in its grand splendor as a symbol of its highest position for music.

Where was she? Alethea had never seen anything more impressive than where she was right now. It was like she was a princess entering a castle or stepping through a portal and discovering herself in a completely new world. A fairy tale only at the beginning. Alethea could only imagine the adventures she would experience here. Especially the catacombs. They should still have been existing as they weren't destroyed according to the accounts of the fire destruction. It was only more enticing as the authorities had discovered the living quarters of the so-called phantom of the opera down in the cellars. Alethea couldn't resist the temptation to sneak down into the cellars to see for herself. There might be some treasure or memorabilia that she would be able to keep as a memoir of this kingdom of music. It might have been called stealing, but she hoped that if the ghost weren't there, it wouldn't matter.

She took a seat in the back of the theater, setting her trunk in the aisle, but close enough to her chair so it wouldn't serve as an obstacle to anyone else passing by. She relaxed into the cushions of the velvet chairs and crossed her legs as she waited for this assembly to begin. It was only a wonder of all the places she would discover in her time here. Like a treasure hunt or like an explorer in the pyramids of Egypt.

It was another ten minutes before everyone had taken their seats in the chairs. Andre and Firmin could trust it was safe to begin their introductions and guidelines to everyone. Firmin took the stand this time and just like Andre, he hacked a huge cough of mucus to clear his throat, which wasn't as easy as it use to be. Age was weighing down upon the two of them.

"Well, good morning to all of you!" Firmin was as jolly as St. Nick, clapping his wrinkled hands together with his smoky, bushy mustache twitching above his mouth, like it had a mind of its own. "Welcome, one and all to the new opera house. You do not have any idea the appreciation and happiness you have bestowed upon us, by being here. To tell the truth, we were even sure if it were a good idea to reopen this place, but with you all being here, we have been assured that we were not wrong in attempting this operation." The audience nearly gave Firmin a look of confusion that made them feel like lab rats, the way he explained this was a operation attempt. Firmin could read the looks of offense on the audience, which had him regretting his choice of words. "Please. Wait. I am sorry if I have offended you by making you sound like an experiment, wrong choice of words there for an old man like me. Well, I would like to introduce myself as Monsieur Firmin and my partner Andre. We are the managers of this opera as were three years ago as well. For old members returning back to this place, hopefully the rules and guidelines are still fresh in your minds. Well, if not, then listen as I explain the rules to newcomers. To be a part of this place to accept any role, given to you, no matter how big or small. Some of you may be the next prima donna or you may just be a chorus girl. Some of you might become composers or musicians or just as small as stagehand. No matter what role you are given, you will aid us in every way. Now for people who want to be a part of the company like singing, dancing, music in any way, we need an audition from you. For men who fall under that category, you must see Monsieur Reyer who is the head of our music department. For women who fall under that category, you must see Mme. Giry, who has graciously returned to us with her daughter, Meg Giry as well. Actually, we will ask her to come out here on stage right now. All girls will follow her out of here to go settle in the dorms, or if you are lucky, a dressing room, but a dressing room can only be determined after an audition. Auditions will be held later though, so please be patient with us. Other than that I shall turn this over to Mme. Giry."

The audience clapped, but only in that dull manner, as if they just suffered the worse performance of their lives. A middle-aged woman with long mahogany hair that had grays rooting from the scalp, appeared on the stage. She had wrinkles etching under her eyes, but still stood with as much grace as if she were half her age.

"Girls, I am Mme. Giry," she spoke in deep sultry French accent, " I expect you to compose yourselves and show me that you have evolved to become mature young women. I do not tolerate recklessness or disrespect. If in any way, I find you unsuitable to be here on a good reason, I can have the power to send you packing. It is a shame to be banished from here. Understand?"

All the girls in the audience nodded their heads and Mme. Giry seemed satisfied. She gestured for another girl to come out on stage and help lead everyone to the girl's dormitory. The girl who gracefully pranced out on stage had the flare of a ballerina, but still a childish innocence. She had bouncy golden curls and peach-tone skin. Her bright blue eyes stared at Mme. Giry, waiting for directions. Mme. Giry tapped her cane and walked down from the stage.

"Girls! Follow me!" she called out like a mother scolding child.

As if she were a military instructor, all girls immediately followed out in a noisy crowd. Alethea chased after them as well after grabbing her trunk again. Other girls seemed to be struggling with their luggage which looked to be more than half of the weight of Alethea's trunk.

Mme. Giry was the leader of all the rats trailing behind except for the girl with the golden curls, who was here daughter, Meg. She was uncomfortable with the position of being an assistant to her mother who seemed to be able to handle on her own with the newcomers. So Meg decided to lull behind a little to let her mother do everything, since even Meg wasn't sure of what she was suppose to do.

She held behind till most of the girls had passed her over. She was near the back of the line when she began walking again.

"Hello," she heard a greeting voice behind her that sounded the most friendly. Meg turned around to find a girl with a twenty-pound trunk in her hands and copper-brown hair. But then she noticed the girl's eyes. They were so hypnotizing in just being the color of violet that they were. It nearly put Meg into a trance. She was able to realize that she was staring right at the girl without even uttering word.

"Sorry, for staring so long," Meg apologized to the girl and stayed behind a little more to be right next to her. "Are you new here?"

Alethea nodded, "Yes, I've never been here before and so far, it is the most beautiful thing I've seen in my entire life. Was it always like this? Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Alethea. Alethea Lanquerx."

Meg giggled like a child. "Meg Giry. Mme. Giry's daughter. You weren't here three years ago. In my opinion this newly reconstructed house is much more grand than it was before. But even if you were here before, you would still have believed this place to have been beautiful."

"Is there anything you can tell me about the....._opera ghost_?" Alethea spoke with such caution, sounding like that if she spoke it so suddenly that a curse would fall upon the house.

At the immediate mention of the ghost, the color in Meg's face drained and she turned a sickly shade. "Um....I don't think this would be the best time to say anything. After all some people here can still be pretty suspicious about that."

Alethea felt stupid for asking a question like that. She should have taken into consideration the effect the opera ghost would have on the members that had been here before or during the fire. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, it's fine," Meg assured, touching her arm to tell her it was fine. "You're not the first be asking abut the ghost. Right now though, it's still a little early to be reawakening the past."

"Do you know anything though?" Alethea pressed, still being cautious of what she was asking, but trying to make some small discovery.

Before Meg could answer, the entire group halted in a hallway, as long and as narrow as mile with doors on each side. It seemed to never end.

"Girls, this is the dormitory. These rooms will house two to three girls depending on how many beds are in the room. Please welcome a roommate if you can, because there are limited rooms. If some of you are lucky, you might move into a dressing room instead. At the moment, please place your items in that room you choose." Mme. Giry nodded her head and tapped her cane, with her face held high like an official.

"Would you like to share a room with me?" Meg asked Alethea, who was surprised by the request. She didn't expect to have a roommate so quick, but Meg seemed like a nice, sweet girl, whom she could get along with.

"Sure," Alethea answered and the two wandered down into the corridor with the rest of the girls to choose a room.


	3. The Roots of Friendship

**Author's Note: Hey readers. I hope you're still reading. I'm sorry if the story hasn't sound so interesting so far, but I promise it will get better in due time. Please give it a chance. I promise that Erik will appear in the next chapter. **

Chapter 2

The Roots of Friendship

Meg and Alethea were lucky to have been able to snag the last room that had two beds in it. It was quite an adventure, considering the many other girls that were practically ripping each other's heads off for the room they wanted. Their room was quite charming with warm colors, two beds, two rugs decorating the floor. A wash basin stood to one wall along with a desk. There was a window on one side of the room between the two beds. After they had managed to grab the last room, they both locked the door in case of any girls who attempted to barge in and kick them out.

"Wow!" Meg was frantically panting. "That may be the most exhausting thing I will ever do today, well except for my dancing."

Alethea chuckled under her breath as she gently dropped her trunk on the floor next to her chosen bed. "If your mother works here, how come you don't share a quarter or a room together. Please don't get the impression that I didn't have any wish to be your roommate, but I was curious."

"Oh, that's fine," Meg moved away from the door to her bed next to Alethea's. "Even though my mother works here, she has no intentions of treating me any different than if I were any ballet rat or chorus girl. I don't get any priorities better than anyone else's just because I'm the ballet mistress's daughter."

"That's understandable," Alethea nodded, pulling her trunk up onto the bed. "My parents would be like that too if they worked here. They would want to be as fair as everyone here."

Meg noticed the heavy trunk that Alethea dragged up on the bed. She made a confused expression as if she had never seen anything like that. "Is that your only luggage? It doesn't seem like it holds much, but it does look extremely heavy. All other girls carry a valise or a few luggage bags. They know nothing about being at the opera house though."

"Trust me," Alethea unbuckled the leather locks as she opened the trunk. "It carries enough for me to survive away from home. Home is far enough away for me. It's different to be here."

"Really?" Meg stood up and walked over to sit on Alethea's bed right in front of the trunk. "What do you carry in there?"

Alethea began pulling out a few day dresses, most were of Earth tones, very modest colors. "Meg, where are your belongings? I didn't see you carrying any kind of luggage here with you."

"Mine are with my mother in her room," Meg explained, "She allowed me to keep my luggage in her room till I could get a room in the dorm. I'll be bringing them up later."

Alethea nodded again. She then began pulling out folded pairs of pants and white shirts and blouses, which wasn't undetected by Meg as she gawked at what she saw her roommate pulling out of her trunk.

"Are those....men's clothes?" Meg exclaimed in utter shock. "Whoever packed your trunk certainly made the mistake of packing men's clothes along with your belongings."

"No, Meg," Alethea's friendly tone turned into a stern expression like she had been offended. "Actually, these are my clothes. To tell the truth Meg, I actually like wearing men's clothes more than girl's clothes. Please don't make any wrong assumptions about me, but I find it more comforting when it comes to wearing these kinds of clothing more than my own dresses. I just only wear my day dresses in public most of the time."

Meg made an 'oh' face, understanding the odd nature of her roommate. She watched as Alethea pulled out a vest and a pair of black boots. "Do your parents really approve of you wearing that? Well, what are your parents like anyway?"

A sigh uttered from Alethea, but not like a frustrated sigh, but rather a sigh like she were revisiting the memories to give the answer to Meg's question. "My parents are kind and wonderful people in more than one way. They care about me so much and they always respect me as if I were their equal as well. Despite the times when I would believe they were the most unfair people in the world, I later realized it was because they were looking out for my best interest even when I didn't see it. You have no idea how kind and generous they were to me, Meg."

"Did they have any really strict expectations from you from when the day they were born?" Meg was asking it like it were a joke. "My mother could have been like that." She laughed a little at her own joke.

But Alethea wasn't laughing at all. Her face was extremely serious and almost troubled. It took Meg a minute before she realized that she was the only one laughing.

"Alethea, are you okay?" Meg touched her arm. "Oh no, was it something I said?"

Her roommate shook her head and began fumbling with something tucked under her blouse. From what Meg, could see, it was something tiny suspended on a silver chain around her neck.

"Actually, Meg, the truth is........I was adopted," Alethea bluntly spoke the truth in a very subtle and cautious manner. "I really don't know who my real parents are or were. That's what I meant by that my parents, the ones who raised me, were the most generous people to me ever. If it weren't for them, who knows where I would be right now."

Meg's face fell to the floor, regretting for making her mention more about her past than expected. She looked back to Alethea who was still fumbling with that tiny object in her fingers. "Alethea, I only hope you won't be anymore offended by me and I am truly sorry if I am insulting you. May I ask, do you have any idea who your birth parents were? You don't have to answer if you don't feel like it."

"No, it's fine. I just haven't discussed about this really ever, so it's almost new to me, "Alethea explained. "I have no idea who my birth parents were. In fact, I actually can't recall the first few years of my life. My adopted parents found me when I was apparently five or six, wandering around the countryside outside of Paris. I don't even recall how I could have stumbled in the country. It's a shrouded mystery to me. The only clue to my past is this." With her last words, she revealed to Meg, what she had been twittering with in her fingers. She pulled out a silver oval-shaped locket, with a French lily carved on it. "I've had it ever since I was found wandering the countryside. It's not a clue that gives me many answers, but it's a connection, which is enough."

"Is there anything on the inside?" Meg leaned over to get a better look of it in the light. She took it gently in her fingers and observed its physical carving.

"Well, there's a small portrait on the inside. It's fading a little, but you can still make out some features," Alethea explained and she unclasped it to open the locket revealing a tiny portrait of a little girl with golden-brown hair with an angel face and with a pale-complexion.

"Is..is that you?" Meg leaned in further to get a better look at the details.

Alethea shook her head again. "No, according to my parents, it was definitely not a portrait of me in that locket. I just only wonder why I would have a locket with someone else's face in it? I'm a little afraid of the answer."

"It's odd how much life is like a puzzle," Meg inferred. "I've known my past since the day I was born. I feel sorry for you that a part of yours is a missing piece."

"It's fine," Alethea claimed it like the truth, but deep down on the inside, even she was pained by this mystery. For so long, she would make up reasons or answers for herself of why her history was the way it was. There were days when she believed her parents didn't love her. There were days when she maybe thought she was kidnapped and abandoned at birth. There were so many other reasons she imagined, but none of them were a satisfactory answer for here.

Meg wrapped her arms around Alethea, hugging her. She didn't repel the hug; it was nice to have a hug like this, after being alone for most of the journey to this new home she had. It was like having a new friend.

It _was_ a new friend.


	4. Deadly Encounter Part 1

**Author's Note: A word of warning. You might or might not enjoy the next part of this chapter as there is a fight scene involved, which I'm not sure how good I am at writing one. But I worked hard to try to make it sound good. Thank you to my reviewers and everyone else who's been reading. Your reviews inspire me to keep writing.**

Chapter 3

Deadly Encounter Part 1

Erik wandered about his lair. It was a mess; he hadn't bothered to attempt to keep it clean for three years. He had changed in the last few years; the pain and despair etched away at his soul, dragging him to the deepest depths of mourning. He slept more often than usual; abandoned his music, and there were manuscript sheets and other debris scattered about his lair. The shattered fragments of the mirrors he had smashed three years ago in blind rage still laid like memories upon the floors of his home. The most tragic of all these were the drawings and sketches of Christine he still had pinned to his walls.

_Christine. Oh Christine._

It was a surprise to him that he was still alive. His grief should have killed him, but maybe it was only killing him on the inside. There were days when he was more grieved than he should have been. There were days when he was in rage and he would rip portraits of his beloved Christine off his walls and rip them to shreds, burn them or throw them into the lake, only to regret his actions.

He hadn't surfaced in three years after the fire, after Christine ran off with that Vicomte. Not even after the restoration of the opera populaire. He couldn't even recognize why he still lived. His music only reminded him of his pain and every time he would attempt to write something, it would lament his deepest troubles or it would be plain right awful in his ears. Nothing sparked an inspiration or interest. He only wondered how long it would be before he would die and wither away through time.

That night, however, a surge flared in his soul, an urge to surface again. It took him long enough to convince himself to take a chance to at least see what had been restored and reconstructed in this house. His home. He almost couldn't bring himself to do it, but a urge in his heart told him to.

So he donned his wig and his black apparel. He readjusted his white mask upon his face and made sure he was neat and well-prepared to see the world. Even as a recluse, he still wanted to make a good impression when it came to surfacing.

He knew exactly where he wanted to be on a night like this. The roof, where he could be at peace with only himself there. The roof was the highest peak where he could see all of Paris, the beauty of it at night. Night and darkness were his favorite. He was the night almost. He blended into it well enough.

After three years, he bravely and confidently stepped into his gondola and rowed across the lake to where he would emerge yet again to visit the world and humanity after so long.

Alethea was restless. Even after it was declared that the hours of bed rest had arrived, she couldn't sleep. It wasn't because of auditions for roles in the company were in the morning, she wasn't nervous. She was excited by the pure pleasure of a wondrous adventure in the opera populaire. She could imagine all the deep corners and secrets that existed in this place, in her new home.

'_How can I sleep when this is a palace to explore?' _she silently rose out of bed, so as to not wake Meg, who was sleeping like a rock across from her. However, Alethea wanted to be cautious as she didn't know who would be out in the halls or patrolling the area. She knew though that she would most likely not get in trouble, being caught, if she could pass herself off as a boy.

She approached her trunk and opened it, pulling out a pair of black breeches, her boots and a white shirt. Quietly, she dressed herself out of her nightgown and into her men's clothes. For safety reasons, she removed her locket as she didn't want to take any chances of losing or damaging it in the dark. It was too precious to her.

Before she was prepared to make her leave, she reached into her trunk for a few more things she thought she would need. At the bottom of her trunk, hidden under a thick shawl, which she removed, revealed a black domino mask, plain, but beautiful. But under the domino mask, sheltered in a sheath, was her other most precious treasure. It was her sword, which her father, himself had forged for her.

Alethea was no weak girl, she was a true warrior. She was trained how to fight with a sword and with body combat. But she knew how to fight like no other soldier could ever dream of. Her adopted father was a sword smith who forged swords. But more than that, he was a brilliant warrior and fighter, who trained her to fight. He was the one who taught her everything she knew and it was he who forged the sword that she had hidden at the bottom of her trunk. A most precious treasure to her from her father that she received when she was seventeen.

She held it in her hands, but she wanted to be quiet and get out of her room to go explore. She decided not to pull it out of its sheath just yet. But before she finally left, she braided her copper-brown hair into a long braid and adjusted her black mask upon her face. The mask was more of there, because it symbolized something to Alethea in her eyes. Her identity was mystery to her, so why not a mystery to the entire world. It was her personal joke.

She tiptoed with the grace of a ballerina to the door, where she quietly slipped out without even Meg, turning in her bed. Alethea was subtle to check the hallway to make sure no one was patrolling. At once when it was clear that no one was in the hall, she tiptoed down the hall and made an immediate halt right at the end. Peeping her head out, still no one was in the hall.

_'I really hope I won't get caught now,' _she prayed. It would be such a shame to her and her family if she were to be dismissed from the opera before her career could even begin here. She was actually more afraid of being caught by Mme. Giry. She was the real fear.

Alethea staggered a few breaths before she continued with her journey. Even in the dark she could still make out shapes and as her wandering eyes kept looking everywhere, she saw more floors and levels to explore. She decided that maybe she would work top to bottom and so headed for the stairs that would lead to her beginning.

When her head peeped onto the first floor she ascended to, she could make out mannequins and props. She saw costumes of different fabrics and patterns lying everywhere. She only wondered, how could they begin making costumes when they haven't even decided on what show to put on. Maybe everyone would find out in the morning. She wandered around this place, feeling every fabric and observing props that she could see in the dark, though she was quickly bored and moved on to the next level up the stairs. Her sword was latched to her side, in case of any surprise attack and for self defense.

The next floor, she found herself in was almost quiet still. She made out the shapes of shadows and rock. Close inspection revealed to her that this was the sculpting room where the sculptures were made. She was quite fascinated by this place as she wandered around peering at all the little sculptures in the process and trying to make out details.

She ascended the next staircase, with the exhilaration of what she would find next. However she was surprised by what she saw on the next level, as it was just a floor with nothing there. She wondered why it was there then, but out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted the spiraling limbs of a staircase, forged from looked to be iron. All the other stairs were made of wood, but maybe because it was spiraling, that's why it was made of iron. Looking up to see where the stair led to, she couldn't make out any new floor that was higher than where she was. The staircase seemed to be spiraling forever up, maybe into the heavens even. It was enough to peak her interest, so she made the attempt of ascending the spiraling stairs, gripping onto the rails in case the stairs should be shaky.

Alethea was determined to find out where these stairs led to, as they continued to rise into the ceiling, but maybe she was hoping she would find something worthwhile to see and close into her memory forever if she discovered where this led to. Even when the stair didn't seem to end any time soon enough for her, she only continued to climb.

When she reached the last step, she was prepared to find the most extraordinary treasure this place had to offer to her. Maybe it was a secret room, or maybe to another place much more exhilarating. But when her face looked up, it was only an average wooden door. No different than any other she had seen today, but after all, she was only looking on the outside. There must have been something on the other side to take her breath away.

She gripped the handle and shoved the door open.

Before her eyes, the sight that befell her did indeed steal her breath away. She found herself on the roof of the opera house and before her was Paris in its own splendor when sheathed in the night. She saw the lights that twinkled and decorated Paris enveloping it into a whole new fantasy. It was a new world indeed to Alethea. Her eyes widened in pleasure, as she bravely walked out on the roof to be closer to the scenery.

She also realized how full the roof was. She could see the dome and the statues or angels and horses that stood atop here in full pride to see the world. This was indeed a true treasure to her and she didn't have wish of leaving here so soon. Another part of this that enticed her so was, that this could be a place that Alethea saw, almost as a training ground. Her father did instruct her to continue to practice her training with her sword and with her body combat. The roof could hold many wonders and uses to her.

_'Well, since I'm here, maybe I should practice then,' _she smiled at the thought. She held her sword in her both her hands, like it were the most delicate thing she would ever behold in the world. Slowly and cautiously, she pulled her sword from it sheath and stared at its glory.

It was a 24 inch long blade with a hilt forged from silver, a sword which resembled the swords that existed in the medieval century. She was proud of this sword more than any of the other swords her father ever forged for others. It was his best work in her eyes.

So she was swift and she began to practice.

Erik had found his way to the roof where he was truly indeed inspired by the beauty of seeing Paris again. It was more beautiful than he could remember. And on his way up to the roof, he detected all the changes he could see done to the opera. It was more glorious than ever before. It was a treat to be back from under the grounds from the sewers.

When he ascended to the roof, he wanted to find a better view from a higher position so his wandering eyes may gaze upon all of Paris. He climbed up to Apollo's Lyre, the highest peak of the opera that was rebuilt to his liking. It was a surprise to him that it had been rebuilt, to his pleasure.

However the moment of enjoying the sight was short. The creaks of a door disturbed his ears. He was hidden, but it was still a disappointment when he knew he wasn't alone. Curses other people who crossed into his domain.

He peered down from Apollo's Lyre and he could trace the figure of a person. In the dark his eyes were more mastered at seeing from the night. He could see that it was most likely a boy from the apparel being worn by the person. He looked closer, trying to decipher the person's face, but to his surprise, the person's face was sheltered under a mask. A dark mask as well, perhaps attempting to blend into the night like him.

_'Is that boy just as deformed as me?'_ he thought as she saw no other reason to be wearing a mask, unless they were a drunk idiot. But that person was maneuvering quite well in the dark and didn't give any appearance of being under any influence but their own free will.

The figure began to pull something out from their hands. Observing closer, Erik detected that it was a sword. What what this boy doing? He was fascinated by this and also thought it may be an amusement to him to see what would occur.

He watched the person with detailed care and perspective. Whoever this boy was, he was strange, like him. Erik saw the sword, which was like no other he had ever seen. It didn't even look like a French sword, or not ever from this time period. So what was that person doing with a sword like that?

The boy executed a swift movement, handling the sword with such speed, it didn't even appear to move. He sliced through the air with the sword whistling as if it were singing.

Erik watched the boy whose face was covered by a mask. He was fascinated by the fight movements this boy was executing, not just by his sword, but with his own arms and legs and hands. Erik had never seen any movements like those. He had seen familiar moves when he was imprisoned in his circus cage, but this boy's were more precise and more advanced. He recognized some moves from when he had been traveling in Asia, but from what Erik could conclude from seeing some of the boy's features, like his light hair, the boy was definitely not from those lands. Who was this person?

Erik had been distracted by the show he was experiencing that he didn't realize his foot was on a faulty rock that was losing its steadiness. However he didn't realize that till it was too late.

_Smash!_ Alethea nearly collapsed as the vibrations of a rock that crashed with such an intensity into the roof missed her by mere inches, nearly knocking her off her feet. Her heart raced after she was sure that it had stopped. At first she wasn't even sure what to question. Where had that come from? What was it doing crashing randomly?

Her eyes flew upward. What her eyes beheld startled her with such fear and froze her cold. Her blood froze in her veins and her heart must have stopped. She could make out the shape of a man. A man whose face was half covered by a white mask. A man she had heard of from so many tales and stories. A man who once haunted this place. A man that she use to be fascinated with and once wanted to meet. An dangerous man.

_The Phantom of the Opera._

Her thoughts were disrupted, as the man who looked down upon her with such rage, leaped from his hiding place, with a malice to kill. To bring upon her end.

**Hey, readers. I hope you're not too disappointed or angry about the other side of Alethea's character with her being a fighter. I had planned this from the beginning, but I'm sorry if it's too much of an unexpected change. This was the way I wanted to write her character out. Please keep reading. It's worthwhile, I promise. **


	5. Deadly Encounter Part 2

**Author's Note: Well, here's the fight scene that I worked on for a while. I tried to make it good, but it's my first time writing a fight scene, so I can't promise that it'll be so exciting. If you have any advice on how I can better that, please email me. **

Chapter 4

Deadly Encounter Part 2

Erik no longer felt any sympathy or amusement for this boy. He was discovered and those who dare discover the phantom must die. Erik gripped himself up onto Apollo's Lyre before he made a swift leap and lunged for his next victim. Curses, why he didn't have his Punjab Lasso; he would be done with the boy, before he would even have the chance to strike back.

Alethea managed to spot the phantom lunging for her and dodged, swift as a fly to the ground as he landed on the roof. She found herself collided against the ground; his footsteps advancing toward her. She noticed her sword flew from her hands, landing a foot away from her. She crawled faster than if she were running from her death.

Before the phantom had the chance to strike her with his own French foil, she rolled over before she heard the clang of his blade strike against the roof. Luckily her hair was in a braid so it wasn't in her face. Her hand whipped the sword from its resting place and she jumped to her feet, dodging his second chance to stab her.

She maintained her distance from him, her sword pointed to him to keep his distance. They both circled around, each other waiting for the other to make the first move. The atmosphere was suspenseful. The clogs of their shoes tapped on the roof, like a beat that accompanied their battle.

Before she was allowed to execute a move, the phantom broke through the diameter of the circle and made an attempt to attack her head on. He swished and flicked his sword right at her, but Alethea was quicker than that and she held her sword up to block his attack.

A clank, with a higher pitch than bells that weren't toned resonated from the roof of the opera populaire. The phantom tried to force her sword down as he struggled to maintain his sword's focus. Alethea crouched on her knees a little, building up her energy, before she countered his attack and forced herself up separating their swords from each other. The phantom recoiled back; she nearly knocked him off his feet.

He panted, giving her time to come up with a quick strategy, but that wasn't enough as he recollected his energy and came at her again. Using both hands, he attempted to undertake her, but she caught his plan and halted his weak foil with hers, forging them into an angle. Both were struggling to maintain their own balance.

Alethea wanted to defend herself, but she wouldn't attack. One thing she promised her father, when he trained her was that she would never be the offender, only to defend herself. Alethea was determined to keep that promise and she only hoped this night wouldn't end with someone's death.

Wanting to untangle herself from this mess, she crouched a little again, building up her potential energy. And _swish_, she launched herself into the air, like she were flying, and managed to fling herself into a back flip, landing herself about ten feet from the phantom. But she could tell that move only angered and fueled his rage.

In the icy, intense anger, he clutched his sword in the air as if for the ultimate onslaught to prove his victory. He flew at here again, with his sword held high and he whipped his blade at her to slash her and gain the upper hand. But Alethea wouldn't back down yet, she managed to evade his slashes; he was like a true maniac at that point.

He made a swift called premature act to undertake her again, surprise her in hopes of her knocking her off her advantage. Alethea dodged one last attack before she realized his plan. All of a sudden the world seemed to move in slow motion. He flung his sword in a 180 degree angle, but Alethea could see what he was attempting to do. In a smack attempt to avoid the attack she lifted herself back up into the air in one slash, whistling motion.

The sounds of metal clanging clawed together. When Alethea returned back to reality, her eyes widened in absolute astonishment. Her leap took her high enough that when she had landed, she was light and quick enough to land right on the blade of Erik's foil. The flimsy blade though wasn't enough to support her, but she executed her next action as quick as her first. Her opponent who was just as startled by what she had just executed allowed her enough time to smash her foot into his forehead, in a shattering crunch that resembled the shattering of the glass mirrors Erik had destroyed in his lair.

She flipped through the air again, her foot collided again with the floorboards of the roof; but she could spot the phantom, on the ground, groveling almost. She only hoped she didn't hurt him too much. He almost shook like he was sobbing, till he went still and the air went became tense.

Alethea gripped her sword in defense mode; she knew he wasn't hurt, her theory was reassured when he pounced back onto his feet, but what made her body freeze in cold blood was what she didn't expect to see. The intensity of her foot against his face was enough to knock his marble-white mask off his face and his wig. His entire face and scalp was completely revealed to her, and even in the dark of the night, she could clearly see his disfigurement. It wasn't full-blown horrifying but enough to startle her shaking her nerves and running her body cold.

The left half of his face was scarred, with half of his lips malformed giving the appearance that his lip was drooping to his chin. His left eye was scarred to the point where it looked like it was bugging out and mismatched with his other eye. There were barely even tufts of hair on his head and parts of his head looked cracked open revealing the skull. Then the left side of nose was blending into his face. How could a man live like that?

Alethea couldn't read the rage and fury burning in his eyes. It was like no other kind of intensity of anger she thought she would never see. He growled like a lion advancing on his prey, and Alethea was actually afraid of him more than her life. She recoiled slowly away from him.

But the phantom was able to fuel that rage into his encouragement to kill her. He moved like a fast-paced snake on its way to kill its prey with its venom. He slashed at her one more time, which Alethea was able to sway away from, but when his blade was positioned high in his hand, he rammed it down upon her.

"Enough!" she cried and she whipped her sword at the his blade, which was her true target. She couldn't bear to see how this would end, so when she allowed her sword to fall upon his, she couldn't help but shut her eyes and hope she would hit what she wanted to strike.

A shattering crack of glass which pierced the sonic wave barrier like the screech of a banshee screamed into her ears. When Alethea was brave enough to open her eyes, she saw what had occurred. The blade of her sword had been strong enough and moving at such a fast velocity, that when it came in contact with the phantom's foil, her blade had shattered his.

Neither the phantom nor Alethea could believe what had happened. The phantom stared at what was left of his foil.

"Enough!" Alethea cried again, panting heavily. "This is over!"

The phantom panted as heavily as she was. He was still full of rage, but the energy was far faded from both their systems. Alethea dropped her sword to her side, but she was still full of questions. Her head was swimming in a sea of confusion, and not to mention how lightheaded she was from all the exhaustion.

When she regained her breath, she bravely and confidently looked at him. He was still short of breath, which gave her the perfect opportunity to call a truce.

"Why?" she asked him as he still breathed like he just ran a race. "Why did you try to kill me? What have I ever done to you!?"

The man raised his head to glare at her. "You wretched bastard! You've seen my face! You should know my history! Should it even be a question of why I decided to kill you?"

"You! You're the phantom of the opera!" Alethea exclaimed, even though she knew it already, but she couldn't help but cry out like that.

The phantom snickered evilly, but nearly triumphantly. "Are you going to kill me?" Even though he didn't wish his death had to be at the defeat of someone who was possibly like him, he actually thought and pondered on the prospects of what freedom and relief he would have when he would be free. Free from the pain of losing Christine, free from the pain of his deformity. He realized that maybe he should accept his death and forget about the cruelties of humanity which led him to be who he was now.

But surprisingly, Alethea wouldn't attack him.

"Are you a coward?" he mocked, "you're the victor! Aren't you going to kill me?"

Alethea shook her head and replaced the sword back into its sheath at her side. "No, I won't," she answered like a true warrior. "I'm not going to kill you."

"Coward!" he lashed at her. "I'm weak and defenseless. I'm waiting for you to finally take my life and you won't?"

Alethea shook her head again; strong and willful to stand for what she believed. And she believed, was that no matter what, never take a life, unless it is the last desperate measure. But even if it were for self defense, Alethea wouldn't be able to take the guilt of seizing someone else's life.

"I'd rather be a coward," she stated bluntly, not at him, but with her face directing out toward Paris. "You can call me that, but at least you can never call me a murderer."

The horrid chortles of the phantom echoed through the night; something sinister was afoot, which Alethea could sense, but she could tell it wouldn't be like it what just happened.

"Hehehehehe," the phantom's sadistic side was also revealed to her, a more sinister and terrifying side than what she just saw. "You know what, you're not a coward, but a fool. A pitiful fool! But I think because you received the honor of laying your eyes upon my horrid disfigurement, I think I should call it fair to take a look at yours!"

"W-what!" Alethea was perplexed by what he just said. What did he mean that he should take a fair look at her disfigurement? But then she remembered she was still wearing a mask; he must have mistook that as hiding a facial deformity. She had nothing to hide, but she still couldn't reveal to him that she was a woman.

However, before she could make a move to defend herself, he seized her by the arm and then she hadn't seen this coming. His hand came in harsh contact with her face, slapping her with such torturous force, that she felt the sting even before he actually slapped her.

He smacked her in the face, and as he did that, he ripped her black domino mask off from her face, sending her into a scream.

But what he saw froze his blood and stopped _his_ heart cold.

**Hey, I hope you're not too disappointed with the chapter. This was the first fight scene I ever wrote, so please don't be so judgemental toward me. I tried to make it sound good. Again, if you have any advice, please email me. :)**


	6. Conversation with the Enemy

**Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Your reviews inspire me to keep writing. Check out my other phantom fanfic 'High School Drama'. It's a modern phantom set in high school. Enjoy Chapter 5 of 'The Truth is Beneath Your Eyes'. **

Chapter 5

Conversation with the Enemy

Erik reeled back from his opponent. The breath was knocked out of him, forcing him to nearly clutch his chest to keep balance. Never did he think he would see this kind of result, that was far from what he had hypothesized.

"You're......you're.....you're," he was so stunned that he lost his speech. He couldn't force the words out when he was tried to. "You're.....you're.....you're...."

"A woman?" Alethea made it sound like a question, because the phantom was acting like he had never seen a woman. But she knew it was really because he wouldn't have ever expected his enemy to be of the opposite gender. "Does that surprise you?" she sounded skeptical, but he must really have been stunned. She plucked her black domino mask off the ground and brushed off any dirt or smudge on it.

Catching his breath, Erik was able to look at her. She was completely opposite of what he thought was hidden under that mask. Also, she was absolutely beautiful. Even though he could see the tomboyish characteristics of her, she was attractive. Especially the violet eyes that were like jewels in her eye sockets.

"Who are you?" he was still so surprised, but like her, he retrieved his mask and wig from the floorboards of the roof. He didn't stop without readjusting it back on his head and face.

Alethea looked at the ground, staring at her boots that were shielding her feet. "A woman. Should I suppose that you're not a ghost?"

"Silence!" he shouted for his dear life, like his very existence depended on no one screaming out that the phantom of the opera had resurfaced. "Don't you dare even utter who I am. But maybe I should impose on why a young woman like you is out after hours? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Bed is not a place for me," she replied, folding her arms. "Neither is sleep. I thought you were dead. So far as to the what the public has stated."

"The public! Hah!" Erik chortled evilly clutching his chest to stop himself from falling over from what he thought was hilarious. "They are fools! Along with the authorities. However I do wonder how am I going to kill you? After all, you have seen me. You seem to very well know who I am. My only trouble is, is that the only weapon I had to slay you with has been damaged. Perhaps, I can find a way to have you dismissed from the opera. And oh, what a shame to leave, before you can even blossom a career."

Alethea shook her head. "Just saying, I know that this may not sound like how I wanted to," she warned him, staring out into the city of Paris. "If the entire public thinks you are dead, how many people do you think will actually believe me if I say that you're alive. Especially if there is no proof?"

_Curses! She's quite witty_ Erik thought to himself. "I suppose you have a point," he observed still looking at her with malice and resentment. "I suppose there is a way we can compromise."

"Let me guess," Alethea laughed to herself. "I don't speak a word of tonight and you won't have me dismissed from the opera. Please, I don't even think we need to come to such an agreement. Besides how do I know I can trust you?"

"How do I know I can trust _you_?" Erik fired back, shooting such a deadly glare at Alethea.

Alethea pondered on this. However even she was wondering how could anything work out between the two of them. Why was she even doing this? "You know? Maybe this is better if we forget this night. After all, what could be the chances of us meeting again?'

"Well, first off, you and I are both in the opera house," Erik pointed out, "I don't think it wise to be doubting the chances of us ever seeing each other again."

"But what are the chances of us have any contact?" Alethea pressed. "After all, you don't haunt the corridors anymore. And I don't even know where you live."

Erik sighed. "Who are you? And why do you masquerade like a man? Why hide your normal face behind a mask?"

"Are you trying to familiarize yourself with me now?" it sound more like an accusation rather than a question. "Why I do things is my business. None of yours."

Erik shook his head. "You are unique......for a woman. Never have I seen a woman brave enough to mask as a boy. Never have I seen anyone fight like that." He chuckled for no reason, ignoring the offended look on the girl he was speaking to.

"Are you prejudice against woman?" again, Alethea was rather making an accusation rather than a question. She hated when men would treat women of a lower standard than them.

"No," Erik answered unfazed. "But considering how much experience I've had seeing the world, you can imagine I would never see a woman like you. You seem a little ahead of this century."

Alethea shrugged her shoulders. "Change occurs everyday. You should expect that. Expect the unexpected."

"Odd, that's my motto," Erik gazed upon the ground, trying to distract himself by observing the pattern on the boards composing the roof.

Considering the hour of the night and the exhaustion of her battle with the phantom, Alethea realized only how tired she was. Perhaps it was time to end this incident so she could get some rest.

"It's time to call this an end," she declared, "I have things to do tomorrow. Besides, the phantom legend has died. I heard about you. I heard about why people won't accept you. Why should I set off another chain of phantom events? I'm not here to make anyone's life more miserable."

"I agree," Erik answered. "Till then, goodnight."

Alethea turned around. He was no longer there. He could disappear like a ghost. It made her actually wonder if the phantom was truly a ghost or a real man. Well, she could ponder over this in bed. She was pretty exhausted.

Readjusting her mask back on her face, she looked around once more, trying to spy the phantom. When she was sure, he wasn't anywhere near her, she slowly walked to the door, but before she finally exited the roof, she gazed around once more, before she, herself, was gone.

**Sorry for the short chapter, but it does get better. Till then.**

**Artemis of Aquarius**


	7. The Audition

**Hey readers. Sorry for not telling you before but if you want an ideal look of what Christine and Alethea (Sofia as that's her real name) looked like when there were children there was a painting I had found while writing this story called 'Two Sisters' by ****William-Adolphe Bouguereau. I thought that painting went well with this story. Sorry, I'd post a link to the painting but I don't know how. Enjoy this chapter. **

Chapter 6

The Audition

Alethea had successfully managed to sneak back into the dorm without being caught. When she had she quickly changed back into her nightgown and hopped into bed. There were still a few hours before the sun was to rise. But no matter how she tossed and turned, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just met the infamous phantom. She had dreamed of meeting him, ever since she heard of the legend, but tonight had been critical in the fact that lives could have been lost. His or hers. Luckily it had been a stalemate, but she was still shaken. On the bright side, she had managed to practice her training, but it couldn't overshadow the fact that she could have died that night.

The sun rose within a few hours. Enough time for her to fit in some sleep. Surprisingly she woke up, before Meg did. How long could that girl sleep? Well she knew they would have to prepare to leave the dorm soon, so she thought it best to wake her friend.

"Meg!" Alethea got out of bed and shook her. "Meg!" she cried out again when she wouldn't stir. Even though Alethea didn't really want to do this, she had a good guess that this was the most likely way to wake Meg.

"Meg, your mother's here!" Alethea exclaimed.

Meg shot up from her slumber in a haze. "W-what?" She asked groggily just like she got out from a good night's rest.

Alethea started giggling and sat on her bed. Meg however sat up and realized the joke, only to glare at Alethea with a near stare of hate. "Alethea, why did you wake me up?" asked Meg, angrily. She fell back onto the bed and nearly tried to cover herself under her blankets again.

But she wasn't aware that her roommate had a pillow in her hands about to attack. Meg was oblivious and tried to fall back asleep. Alethea struck the pillow down on Meg in a playful manner.

"Meg! Meg!" Alethea laughed in delight as she attacked her friend. "Come on, Meg, auditions are today and we have to be down shortly. Get up!"

Meg hesitantly threw back the covers and she slowly rose up, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was in a tumbleweed mess, while Alethea's was still in a loose braid. "You know, I don't even know what I'm auditioning for," Meg was only half conscious, rubbing her eyes and stretching awake. "I think the only thing I have looking forward to is being in the corps again. Let's face it, I will never be a principle."

"Don't doubt yourself Meg," Alethea said, pulling out a brown day dress and laying it on the bed. She grabbed a bush and untied the braid in her hair. "After all, you'll be on the stage. The only talent I have is playing the piano and I don't think I'll be able to blossom anywhere on the stage. I can't be in the orchestra and female pianists aren't so popular." She began combing through her copper-brown hair which fell into waves like a waterfall.

Meg leaned over. "Alethea, I promise you'll find a place here. Can I borrow your brush? I think I left my comb with my mother."

Alethea handed the brush to Meg and changed into her brown day dress. It was of an odd style that didn't fall at the waistline, but it wasn't an empire-waistline gown either. It was at an area lower than her empire-waistline, but above her waistline. These were the only gowns Alethea liked to wear, but everything else were men's clothes. As her skirt's hem touched the floor, Alethea straightened the skirt and tied her hair into a half-bun that let some of her hair fall to the side of her face. She had washed her face and made sure she looked presentable to the company.

"Do I look nice?" Alethea turned to Meg asking for approval.

Meg smiled and nodded. "Don't worry, you look great, but they are more of looking for talent than looks."

"I know that, but you have to look presentable," informed Alethea as she strapped on a pair of flat shoes.

"I think you look nice," Meg complimented, "how do I look? I think I look like an cream puff."

Alethea observed Meg, who was wearing a white leotard and a white, puffy tutu with her blonde hair pulled back by a ribbon in her hair.

"Why are you in your ballet attire?" Alethea asked as Meg was tying a pair of pointe shoes onto her feet.

A shrug came from Meg. "Well, I am auditioning in the ballet department, so I minus well wear the uniform."

"True," Alethea answered before the two burst into a tiny laugh.

Alethea was waiting outside the room where the auditions were being performed, but she wasn't alone. Countless other people were behind waiting for their audition as well. She tried to distract herself, but she kept her eyes on the door. Meg was inside dancing her heart out, but she knew Meg had higher chances of earning a prominent place here at the opera. It wasn't just because her mother was the ballet mistress, but Alethea knew that she must practice much because of her mother.

Her fingers were shaking a little, but she tried to steady them. To her, she felt like she might have been the only nervous one in the line.

After a few minutes, Meg joyfully skipped out of the door. A happy, bubbly face plastered on her.

"Alethea, oh, Alethea, you won't believe it!" Meg exclaimed taking her hands. "I've been promoted to one of the principles. Oh, I swear I almost fainted when I learned that. Oh, aren't you happy for me?"

Her friend nodded. "Yes, absolutely Meg. See you could do it."

"Don't worry, you'll do great," Meg assured kissing her cheek. "Good luck."

"Thank you," answered Alethea, before Meg ran off. She took a steady breath and slowly approached the door. Everything seemed to slow down for a second as she twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

When she entered she found the managers, Mme. Giry and a skinny old man with white hair who was mostly likely Monsieur Reyer that she had heard of the previous day. The room was really just a ballet studio, but with all the musical instruments and pieces for auditioning.

"Mademoiselle," Monsieur Andre stood up, straightening his outfit. "What shall you be performing for us today?"

Alethea took a steady breath and spoke. "I shall be playing a piece on the piano. It has no name as this was a song I had composed. I only hope my piano skills are satisfactory."

She took slow steps to the baby grand piano that was sitting close to the center of the room, where the octagonal window was showering light upon the keys. Sitting, she let her fingers dance across the keys to warm up her hands and fingers. Then she relaxed and breathed in deeply before she released the music from her soul.

It was a playful melody, very charming and very enlightening, but she could sense somewhere deep in the piece lied a trail of sadness and loneliness. She hadn't realized this before as she tapped her fingers over the keys, connecting them together in a harmonious song. It reminded her of her home in the countryside with her parents. It reminded her of how she would run in the fields and play with her only cousin. She recalled training to become the warrior she was today. The memories seeped through her soul, enlightening the music only all the more.

But before she knew it, the music had ended; it had reached its finale. It almost depressed Alethea that she was done with the piece before she knew it. When she turned around she faced a crowd of judges who were staring wide-eyed with their mouths opened at her.

"Very impressive," Monsieur Reyer commented, clapping, "You said you composed this yourself?"

Alethea nodded. "Yes, sir. I composed it when I was sixteen. It has only gotten better since the first draft, or at least as I see it."

"Very beautiful, Mademoiselle Lanquerx was it?" Monsieur Firmin added, recalling her name from yesterday. "I haven't seen such talent in years on the piano. However it won't be easy to find a place for you in the opera. We don't come across many pianists everyday."

Reyer perked up, "Well is it possible to place her in the orchestra? I mean I could use another pianist."

"She may also be the pianist for practices in the ballet class or for the rehearsals as well," suggested Mme. Giry.

"Sires, I will take any position in the opera as long as I may play my piano," Alethea informed, "My only wish is to just play this instrument."

The judges nodded, but Reyer requested one more thing. "Considering you yourself have composed this piece, should we assume that you can read sheet music?"

"Oh, yes!" Alethea responded. "Well there may still be some notes I have yet seen, so I may still need some practice on that."

"All right, well then," Andre cleared his throat. "At the moment you may as Mme. Giry suggested, play in the ballet rehearsals and opera rehearsals, and if when we believe you are ready, you may play in the orchestra."

"Oh, thank you very much!" Alethea was blushing as she nearly jumped in the air.

The judges dismissed her and she left with a very bubbly expression, the same one Meg had when she had her audition. Meg immediately found her when Alethea exited the room and they chatted as they moved away from the line of others were yearning for their auditions.

"How was it?" Meg questioned still so joyful.

Alethea was smiling so wide. "It was wonderful! At the moment, they told me I'll be only playing during the rehearsals, but they said that when they believe I am ready, I'll be playing in the orchestra."

"Oh, Alethea that is wonderful news!" Meg grabbed her arm. "Oh this is so exciting! I wonder when they'll start. I even wonder what opera they're going to do to celebrate the official reopening!"

Alethea shrugged her shoulders. "I only hope it'll be a great opera."

She looked up into the rafters, trying to scan through the dark to see if she saw any figures or shadows. But she decided that it wouldn't be wise, and continued with her conversation with Meg.

**The piece I had imagined Alethea playing in her audition was Avril 14 by the Aphex Twins. It's from the Marie Antoinette soundtrack. Sorry for the descriptive detail on Alethea's gown, I can be like that. Really the kind of clothing I see her wearing other than men's clothes are like the costumes worn by Keira Knightley in the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice. I know that style isn't popular in the century this story takes place in, but Alethea is a different kind of character. Till then, see yah! :)**


	8. A History Resurrected

******Hey readers. Sorry for the delay in updating. I've been busy with school since the end of the year is coming. I might not be updating for a while after the next two chapters as I'll be out of town at a wedding, but I'll try to update as much as I can. Enjoy this next chapter. Thank you to all my reviewers. **

Chapter 7

A History Resurrected

"Alethea, are you all right?" Meg asked when her companion went silent. "Alethea!" she cried shaking her.

Alethea's mind returned to Earth as she remembered where she was with Meg. "Oh, sorry, Meg, my thoughts are a little troubled."

"Why, what's wrong?" Meg was concerned at Alethea mentioning that, because a moment ago, Alethea had be so delighted in the fact that she could be a pianist. "What's troubling you?"

The topic Alethea had in mind, she knew it wasn't wise to mention to Meg, for she could recall the previous day when Meg warned her not to stir up superstitions. Even though she shouldn't be speaking about the phantom of the opera, Alethea knew that she wasn't familiar enough with the history behind the infamous ghost. She need to know more, but she was afraid of telling this to Meg, but she needed to take a chance.

"Meg," her tone grew serious, abruptly. She gently tugged Meg's arm as they wandered in the corridor. "Meg, I know you told me not to mention anything about the P-H-A-N-T-O-M, and I don't want to stir up any sort of mess, but I need to know what happened here three years ago."

Meg suddenly halted her steps in the hall. "W-what?" she whispered a little harsh and serious. "Alethea, you're a good person, but I don't know if it's safe. Why are you so obsessed with the legend of the phantom?" she then suddenly stiffened in a look of fear. "Shhhhh......we don't want anyone else to hear us."

Alethea sighed. She wanted to tell Meg of her encounter with the phantom the previous night before, but Alethea had promised not reveal his existence and she couldn't bring herself to tell Meg, at least not yet. Especially also, because of the fact she didn't want to tell Meg she had a concealed weapon hiding in her trunk.

But she needed to know the truth and so she sighed. "Meg, last night, I couldn't sleep....."she paused, pondering on a way to tell Meg what happened, without revealing too much. "I woke up to see if I could get a drink," she knew it was a lie, but she hoped it would be plausible enough to convince Meg. "As I was walking, I swear I saw a figure moving in the shadows. I kept wondering if it was a stagehand, but there was something so odd about it.....and it's hard to recall the rest." She sighed, knowing it was a lie, and she knew that she technically violated her promise to the phantom, but it was all for the truth.

Meg's face went stiff and emotionless. Immediately, Alethea regretted having spoken at all about the phantom. At first, she wasn't sure whether to get any help for Meg or wait to see if she were all right. Her question was answered when she felt Meg grip her arm really tight and begin leading, well, almost dragging to a far hallway in an area of the opera house that Alethea had yet to see. She was quite anxious about where she was about to go.

"Shhhhh........" Meg cautioned her leading the way, "I'm taking you to a place where we can talk, _alone_, if we are lucky. Don't think I'm kidnapping you. But if you want some answers, you have to promise never to speak of this again. Promise?"

Alethea nodded, but more of for her own safety as she feared if she didn't say yes, then Meg would leave her stranded, in an area she wasn't familiar with. She followed Meg as they ran down the hall till they went down a few steps into another hall, one more stranger than Alethea saw. She was truly afraid she and Meg would get lost, especially since this house had been reconstructed in a new design, but Meg seemed to know where she was going.

Up ahead, Alethea, saw an arched doorway with stairs leading somewhere behind it. She looked above the archway and saw carved right above the entry, the word _Chapel. _There was a chapel in the opera? Alethea never expected to see that in an opera house.

Both she and Meg were cautious as they descended down the stairway into a room, that was slightly bigger than the ballet studio she had auditioned in earlier. But Alethea was amazed at the chapel. It was beautiful with a fresco of angels and doves painted on all the walls. A rose window was placed on the right wall and even though they were in lower ground, it still sprinkled a rainbow of light upon the floor. Candles laid together in a pattern on an iron rack, lit for prayer. A few chairs and benches were lined up in the chapel. Alethea wondered if some people could get married here.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Meg let go of her hand and wandered around the chapel, also drinking in the detail of beauty. She stood there, almost in a trance. "It's more beautiful than it was before the fire."

Alethea was a little perplexed however. "Meg, how did you know where the chapel was?"

"Well, I arrived here before the rest of the company did with my mother and so I had time to explore," Meg explained, pirouetting on her toes. "Well, the layout of the opera is similar to the layout it was like three years ago, so it was almost easy to figure the way here."

"It's beautiful," Alethea commented. She walked around staring at all the features and beautiful colors. "Meg, can you please explain to me what happened three years ago? Since that was the reason you brought me here."

Meg stopped her pirouetting and glanced at Alethea with a hard stare. She was serious now and she gestured Alethea follow her. Meg sat on one of the benches and observed a fresco of an angel. Alethea soon joined and sat next to her, waiting for her friend to speak.

"How much do you know?" her voice was soft, but hard. She had a tone as if she were in a trance, but Alethea could ignore that. She glanced at her hands as they folded in her lap.

She breathed, unsure of where to start. She knew so much, but yet so little and she was still so shocked because of her encounter with the phantom from the previous night. "I know that the authorities realized that the ghost was actually a man. I haven't heard much about this topic, but I know that the opera singer, Christine Daae was involved with the phantom. Authorities had also reported that he was masked due a deformity from birth," that fact she was sure of, as she had seen the phantom's face herself. "And then the last thing I know is the fire. But other than what I've just told you, that's it."

Meg broke from her stare and she looked down as well. Her face seemed to turn to wax in the candlelight she was standing against. "You have to promise not to ever repeat what I tell you right here and now."

She looked upon her friend and saw Alethea nod. It was still uneasy for Meg to begin the story. She had known so much, but she wasn't sure of what the cost would be. To repeat a tale of history was enough, but if it were so tragic, Meg was almost dumbfounded.

"I don't know enough to provide such an account of history, but I will tell you all I know," her voice was subtle and timid-like, as she were so fearful that by speaking of the phantom would bring her sudden death. "Yes, Christine Daae was involved with the phantom, but not like how I would want you to assume. She told me, on the night of her grand debut when she had replaced Carlotta Guidicelli as the lead, that she had been coached by a mysterious tutor ever since her childhood. She had believed it to be an Angel of Music, a divine being sent from the heavens to bring out her angelic voice. Well, whoever had coached her was a true genius."

"Angel of Music?" Alethea interjected falling into deep thought. There again, why did that sound so familiar? It was just like with Christine Daae. That name sounded so familiar, and now the Angel of Music sounded so familiar. Why? It was if she had heard these names and terms, before, but somehow before she ever heard of this phantom incident or of the opera populaire.

Meg fumbled her fingers a bit and then sighed. "Well, her angel turned out to be none other than the opera ghost. I'm not exactly sure if this is true, but I believe he was in love with her. And he was sure she would love him. But....but everything changed."

"How?" Alethea twisted to try to see Meg in the face. "What do you mean?"

"The Vicomte de Changny," was the soft and yet blunt answer given by Meg. "He had come here to be a patron of the opera. When he first arrived, Christine had told me that he was her childhood sweetheart. I was only on the sideline, when they had secretly gotten engaged. But the ghost was furious as to what I saw. I'm not sure exactly what happened in the catacombs, but all I know is that the Vicomte and Christine Daae escaped. The ghost, all I could find when I had gone down there with the police was a mask. He had disappeared, just like that."

Alethea looked the other direction, finding it easier to absorb the information if Meg weren't looking at her. But she had one more question in mind. "And what the couple?"

"They were married a few years ago, only a month or two after the fire," she answered shrugging her shoulders and staring at the fresco of the angel again. "Now they reside in the countryside. I haven't seen Christine Daae since then."

Satisfied that she had discovered what she needed to discover, Alethea nodded her head and turned back to Meg, whom she could tell had had a trouble in explaining this to her. "Thank you, Meg. I promise my lips are sealed. No soul other than us, shall know or speak of this."

"Thank you," Meg laid a hand on her hand. "That means a lot, not to be speaking of this incident. We should be getting back to the rest of the company. Auditions are most likely over by now." Meg stood up and straightened her ballerina tutu. She gestured for Alethea to follow.

Alethea stood up as well and straightened her own dress skirt. She followed Meg a few feet behind, trying to get a glimpse of the chapel, before they left. Even though she knew she could return back to this place since she lived here now, she still drank in the sight.

"Alethea, come, you can come back later," Meg urged in a teasing manner. It seemed the tense atmosphere had evaporated from Meg's voice and now was back to being playful, the tone Alethea had been use to.

"Coming," Alethea responded, laughing a little, to which she and Meg began laughing as they reentered the hallways back to the company.


	9. A Cry of Angels from Above

******Hey Readers. I hope you're still reading. I might be able to update one or two more chapters before I'll be going out of town. I'm finally out of school to which I am so happy. Enjoy this next chapter. I actually had writer's block for a little while trying to figure out where this story should go. **

Chapter 8

A Cry of Angels from Above

Erik sat alone in his lair, sitting by the lake. He wasn't sure if he was drunk or dreaming. For the first time in his life, a bottle of rum was in his hand, but he only drank a quarter of the bottle, which shouldn't have been enough to influence him. Sad thing to him was, he was still sober. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to forget who he was, where he was, Christine and most importantly that vile girl who bested him on the roof. He had yet to shake the shock of discovering he had been fighting a woman the entire time. He could distinctly remember her face, her hair, but most importantly her violet eyes, which mesmerized him still. What was so special about her?

He finally got up and wandered around his lair, trying to focus and concentrate. The bags under his eyes dragged him down. His music and organ were all out of disorder; where was death when he needed it?

It was the peak of twilight when Alethea was returning back to the dorm. She was alone as Meg had been practicing her dancing so much that she was exhausted out, so she retired early. Alethea wandered down the hall heading to the dorm, drinking in the details of the patterns on the walls. But before she turned the corner, she peered down the intersecting hallway, the one she remembered that was leading to the stage.

Out of mere curiosity, she instead turned and traveled down the adjoining hall, hoping she was going the right way to the stage. As she continued, she recognized the walls and her surroundings; she was indeed going down the right way.

_'Oh this place is beautiful'_ she thought, traveling down the hall. Since everyone else had retired or that most of them did, she decided it was safe to explore the stage. She untied her bun and let her copper-brown hair flow around her shoulders.

Just like that, she found herself in one of the wings of the stage, where the stagehands would position. The many props decorating the stage made her contemplate which opera they would perform soon. To her, the stage seemed to stretch a mile. Wandering out onto center stage, Alethea glanced out to the entire audience. What if she could play the piano or sing in front of such an audience? Well, her dreams were most likely to be on hold for at least a while. But no one could stop her right now.

She managed to spot a baby grand piano on the right side of the stage; she hadn't noticed it before. But it was perfect for her. Without hesitation she walked over to the bench and seated herself down. The keys on this were slightly dusty. When was the last time this piano was dusted? In fact what worried her more was, was this piano even tuned. Quickly, she tapped on the keys to make sure she formed perfect melody, which she also used as a warm-up as she never played the piano without warming up her fingers first.

It didn't matter that she was alone in an empty theater; she wanted to play and imagine the audience that could be there, watching her. There were times when she found it much better to be alone when she played her music. A perfect melody and song suddenly formed in her mind; something she also composed and had sung when she was younger and thought to refresh an old treasure.

Playing the opening tune to the song, she counted her beats before she knew to sing the first lyric.

There's a song that's inside of my soul  
It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again  
I'm awake in the infinite cold  
But You sing to me over and over and over again

So I lay my head back down  
And I lift my hands  
and pray to be only Yours  
I pray to be only Yours  
I know now you're my only hope

Sing to me the song of the stars  
Of Your galaxy dancing and laughing  
and laughing again  
When it feels like my dreams are so far  
Sing to me of the plans that You have for me over again

So I lay my head back down  
And I lift my hands and pray  
To be only yours  
I pray to be only yours  
I know now you're my only hope

I give You my destiny  
I'm giving You all of me  
I want Your symphony  
Singing in all that I am  
At the top of my lungs I'm giving it back

So I lay my head back down  
And I lift my hands and pray  
To be only yours  
I pray to be only yours  
I pray to be only yours  
I know now you're my only hope

With the last words, she played the finale to the song. It had enlightened her to play that again after so long. She almost forgot how beautiful it was. Other people may have told her it was a waste, but to her, it was one of the best works she ever created. Even alone, she could imagine the intensity of what it would be like to play for an audience. However right now, she was alone.........or so she thought.

Erik heard music from above. It was a piano, but who would be playing a piano at this late of an hour? At first he decided to ignore the music, even though it was one of the most beautiful pieces he thought he would hear. But then, a wonderful voice followed the song; a sublime voice, an angelic one, like Christine's, but Erik knew this was definitely not Christine who was singing. It was another voice, but equally as beautiful in pitch and range. Such clarity and pureness. Erik couldn't ignore that singing.

Donning his cape, he quickly rowed to the other side of the lake. He must catch who ever was singing before they stopped. That voice was too wonderful to ignore; it resurrected something within him, something he had not felt in so long. Joy. A love for the music again. He must find out who was singing. From the direction of the melody, the person was on the stage, definitely. That wouldn't be so hard for him to see who was playing that song.

Ascending the stairs which had led him to his home, he was yet again resurfacing; a surprise to which he didn't expect to do again. But he didn't care about the pain, it all evaporated with the music. Somehow it made him forget why he was such a recluse nowadays.

Box Five was still in tact. It had been rebuilt, nearly the same style as it had been before three years ago. Entering the box, but carefully concealing himself behind the curtain to the balcony where people would sit, he carefully peeped out of the curtain, obscuring him from view.

To his astonishment, he found the source of the singing. Of course he was already expecting it to be the voice of a woman, but even from the distance he was at from the stage, he was only taken aback by who it was.

It was that _girl. _It was the very same girl who had bested him on roof the previous could recognize her even from afar, most especially because he recognized her hair color. But he couldn't comprehend that the beautiful siren's song which had lead him up from where he had locked himself away for three years was the very same girl he had despised.

In a way, Erik was almost enraged. How dare that girl be able to humiliate him and yet possess such a voice that the heavens must have blessed upon her? Yet his anger dissipated, because of her singing; how, how was so that he could be so enchanted by a voice from the exact same person whom he loathed now? The deception that he had actually thought her to be a boy who bore a deformity just as horrible as him and then only to realize that she was more beautiful that everything he had seen in years.

When the song ended, he was almost depressed again, but the anger had dissolved for good. Even after she stopped singing and playing the piano, he still found himself enchanted by her. He saw an innocent nature in her almost when she curtsied as if she had played for a real audience and then playfully pranced off the stage. Who was this girl?

Well, he would surely find out.

******Hope you liked the chapter. Please review and I will try to attempt another update before I leave. **

******The song I imagined her playing is 'Only Hope' by Mandy Moore. **


	10. Forgotten

******Hey readers, I'm back from vacation so I hope I haven't kept you guys waiting too long. While I was on vacation, I kept getting all these new ideas for my fanfic so I was so eager to get to a computer and update. Word of advice: when in a writer's block, take a vacation from your writing and you will find ideas. Well, I'm back and I hope you will enjoy this next addition. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers for your support. **

Chapter 9

Forgotten

_She was in her little brown frock, the only one she always loved to wear in her childhood. The sun was warm and invigorating and the field of flowers looked enticing to wander about like the carefree child she was. Her hair was dusty, but neatly braided with strands standing out everywhere. It was only morning and the air was sparkling with that welcoming breeze. She wanted to take off her boots and run in the field in her bare feet, but her mother would have scolded her for doing so. _

"_Christiane! Christiane!" she heard the mispronunciation of her name echo across the field. Before her eyes, a tiny little figure clothed in a child-size red dress with little bouncing copper-brown curls come rushing toward her big sister. Even though there were times when she found it annoying to mispronounce her name, she grew fond of her little sister's nickname for her. It was cute and charming. _

_The little girl with bouncing curls and magnificent rare violet or lavender eyes came rushing toward her. The field of flowers separating to part ways for the child to reach her destination. Such a joyous and innocent face upon the little girl. In her small fists, the older sister could spot tufts of flower petals and leaves. Once the little one was close enough, the older sister immediately scooped up the little girl into her delicate arms. _

"_Sofia, what is it?" the older sister asked of the little girl, hugging her tiny body to her. Their tiny porcelain faces touching each other in gentle contact. "Mama will be mad if you dirty yourself too much. Now what's in your hands?"_

_Her little sister, Sofia slowly opened her tiny fist and there lying in her palm was a perfectly preserved little flower. A tiny flower with extremely long stems and at the very peak of it was a tiny white budding flower with a golden and purple center. A Forget-Me-Not._

_She plucked the little bud from her sister's palm and making sure Sofia was secure in her other arm, observed the flower discovered by her little sister. "Sofia, do you know what this is?" she asked letting the flower fall back into Sofia's sight again. _

"_It's a flower!" Sofia clapped her chubby hands together in joy proving the childish innocence she possessed. _

_Christine laughed bouncing her sister up and down with each giggle. "Well, Sofia, it is a flower. A special flower. It's called a Forget-Me-Not."_

"_I won't forget you, Christiane," Sofia misunderstood what her sister meant by what the flower was called. _

"_No, no, Sofia," Christine touched her baby nose with an index finger, giggling. "That is what this little flower is called. When you give someone this kind of flower, it means you don't want them to forget you, hence it's name."_

_Sofia gently plucked the little flower back into her hands. Her chubby hands balancing the flower like it were a treasure She seemed to be observing the bud before she handed the flower back to Christine. "Here, Christiane, I want you to have it. So that you won't forget me." _

_Christine graciously grasped the tiny flower in her fingers and couldn't help but spill a sweet smile on Sofia. "Oh, Sofia, I will never forget you. This can be our flower. In case either of us forget each other we will look back upon this flower and then we'll be able to remember each other." _

_A bubbly face and sweet smile found its way to Sofia who clapped her hands yet again and cried in cheer at the idea. Christine set her back on the ground and they walked back to their little cottage __home. Sofia more of prancing like a little nymph._

"_Yay! Christiane, will we forget each other?" Sofia inquired as they trudged along the dirt path leading back to their home._

"_No, as long as we have this flower, I'll always remember you." _

Christine's eyes shot wide open. She found herself short of breath as she jolted up in bed. It was only a dream. She found herself in her room, laying in her canopy. Good thing that Raoul was deep sleeper as he was snoozing away in his own dreams next to her.

There was an uneasiness about Christine; she had no yearning to return back to the bed or to her dreams. That dream felt so real, so present despite the fact it now existed only in the past. But it shamed Christine that she would forget something like that; even though it was long ago it was still a promise.

Smoothly slipping out of bed, she wrapped a night robe around her. She quietly crept out of the room shared between her and her husband. Her bare feet making a _slush_-sort of noise upon the wooden-paneled floor, but it wasn't enough to stir Raoul from his sleep.

Softly closing the door behind her and checking to make sure the halls were clear, Christine quietly slithered around the dark, feeling her around down the hall of doors, till she was sure she found the correct one. It was the last door at the end of the hallway, by the staircase. It was a room barely used, but it had use for something.

Twisting the knob, Christine's ears welcomed the sound of a door needing oil on its hinges. It was still silent enough as to not wake anyone in the house from their sleep. On one side inside the door, Christine managed to find a lantern and a few matches near it to light it. Being as cautious as she could she lit match and illuminated the lantern making sure it was bright enough for her to find her way around the dark.

Before her, inside of the room, behind the door was a wooden staircase with rusty nails keeping the planks together. This place needed some refurbishing, but it wouldn't stop Christine from what she wanted to accomplish. Gripping the aged wooden rails, Christine, being as silent as a mouse crept up the creaky stairs. She was careful not to injure herself and to be aware of what needed serious repair.

Once she reached the top of the stairs, she held her lantern up to her eye level and she knew she was in the room she wanted to be in.

It was an attic filled with many of the de Changny memorabilia and treasures long forgotten. Chests and closets lingered on the old walls and right in front of Christine was a hexagonal window that looked out upon the entire de Changny estate. She took her lantern and explored the attic, searching every corner for the object she was longing for. Portraits of ancestors and late relatives gathered dust and spider webs decorated the walls. It was for sure that not even the maids would dare wander up to this room.

When she had reached the other end of the attic, she found exactly what she had been needing to find this entire adventure. It was a small box, nearly the size of a hat box, sitting on an antique shelf where dust gathered like a party. But the small hat box Christine had been looking for, looked in tip-top shape with only dust as its companion.

Christine remembered this box; she brought it with her to the manor when she had married Raoul, but she had long forgotten this box up here in this attic where it was sat alone. It was she herself who brought this little box here and placed it on this very shelf. How could she have possibly left this treasure here or have allowed herself to do such a thing?

Setting the lantern down by her feet, she tugged the little hat box out from its resting place. Dusting it off and blowing all the years of dirt and spider webs off from the box, Christine kneeled down on the floorboards and she lifted the lid of the box off from its place. The box used to be pink with little flowers painted with the most detailed colors on it, but was now aged to a faded color of what it use to be.

Around her, she was sure she felt the presence of ghosts haunting her, almost begging to be released from their limbo. Lifting the lid, she was sure only more memories were about to flood the room and stain the dark corners she thought she had long forgotten and had long left behind. But by resurrecting this hat box, the pain only deepened in her soul.

Inside she found tucked into a little corner, a small, dried, but preserved Forget-Me-Not. It was still lavished with its color the same as the day Sofia had found the flower. Despite the years that had passed, it still retained its glamour and its effect on Christine. Gently tugging the bud from its resting place, Christine placed it into her palm. Fifteen long years had passed since that faithful day when she had lost her sister at that train station.

"_......will we forget each other?"_

"_......I will never forget you, Sofia."_

A tear leaked from Christine's tear ducts. For years, she did try to forget that horrible incident and accept that her little sister was dead. However she violated that promise and attempted to forget her sister. Now the shame surged through her because she had promised Sofia not to forget her and yet she had broken that promise a long time ago.

Setting aside the little flower back into the box, she spotted one last treasure from her past that she had attempted to bury. Slowly and cautiously, she lowered her fingers into the box and lifted out a small silver chain, free from rust or any damages that the years might have caused. But at the end of that chain, she pulled out a small silver oval-shaped locket with a French lily engraved upon the necklace. It had been so long since she had last seen this locket that she nearly forgot that it even existed.

She unclasped it and starred in grief at the tiny portrait that laid inside. It was a small miniature portrait of Sofia with her little copper-brown curls and her violet eyes. Her face captured that innocence that Christine remembered her sister by. It truly captured her personality and her spirit, but even then, it was still just a painting. Even from all the years that it spent inside that hat box, the portrait retained its brilliant color and detail as if it were still brand new.

When she and Sofia had been younger, their father had a painter create two portraits of the girls and then had the tiny portraits placed inside two oval-shaped lockets with a French lily engraved upon it. Christine remembered how her father had given her the locket with Sofia's portrait in there and had given Sofia the one with Christine's portrait in it. It had cost a fortune for the lockets, but their father knew how close the girls were to each other and had given them those lockets to remember each other by, forever.

But Christine had attempted to forget her sister, attempted to leave her sister buried in the past, almost truly dead even in spirit but it seemed to only scream at her the more she tried to forget. For years she had tried to convince herself that her little sister was dead, but she couldn't find the strength to believe that.

Tucking the locket into her hand, she quietly cried.

_Sofia, I'm so sorry_**_._**

******Hey, I hope you're not too disappointed with this chapter, but I thought it was a good idea to shift the story to see where Christine was at the moment in this whole tale. Don't worry the story does continue, but I hope you're not too bored with this yet and will continue to read. Till then, see you all later. **


	11. A New Opera

**Hey, readers. I'm so sorry it took me a while to update, but I've been occupied and because I had a slight writer's block trying to figure out where this story should go. I only hope you will like this chapter. **

Chapter 10

A New Opera

The warm French sun pulsed in through the window showering into Meg and Althea's dorm room. The heat that was accumulating, however, was enough to stir Alethea awake and she immediately shot up in bed. A drop of sweat had already formed at her temples.

"Oh my! How much hotter can it possibly get?" Alethea leaped out of bed and ran over to wake Meg up who still seemed to be sleeping cozily under her blankets. It was almost a miracle it wasn't an inferno under those covers. Alethea was sure she couldn't survive like Meg who seemed to be sleeping under three blankets and it was spring, but it sure felt like a fire had sparked.

"Meg! Meg!" Alethea shook her awake. At once, Meg twitched awake and stared intently at Alethea, confused that there may be some important news or an emergency.

Stretching her arms, Meg asked in a groggy tone, "What? Is something wrong?"

"No, but how can you sleep under so many covers? Are you immuned to the heat?" the temperature only seemed to be getting worse as they both conversed. Alethea frantically searched for something to fan herself till she realized what time it must be. "Meg! Meg!"

Meg stirred awake again after drifting back to sleep. "Alethea! Must you always wake me up so early?"

For some reason, that comment amused Alethea and she laughed to which Meg sent her a perplexed gaze. "Meg, I have to wake you up early because we need to be up soon anyway and because today, they're going to tell us what opera they're going to perform for the grand reopening."

At the mention of that explanation, Meg shot out of bed as well and the two were automatically changing and prepping themselves for the day. Meg who redressed in her ballerina attire and Alethea who dressed in a blue day dress today, but she left her hair down with a few strands tied back.

It seemed they were one of the last few people to arrive into the theater as nearly everyone else in the company had already arrived. So as to not attract any attention to themselves, Alethea and Meg took a seat in the back, close enough to the managers and everyone else, but far enough away so they wouldn't have to endure Mme. Giry's disapproving gaze to those who weren't prompt.

Mon. Firmin and Mon. Andre along with Mme. Giry and Mon. Reyer were all standing on the stage, watching as the rest of the late members rushed in. Only Mme. Giry looked disappointed while Reyer looked annoyed.

"Thank you all of you for coming in today," bellowed the stern voice of Firmin who decided to start the meeting, even as some last members walked in. "As you all know, we will be putting on an opera for a reopening when guests and citizens of Paris will arrive to be an audience to our show. As I have stated once before. All of you, no matter what role or position you have in this opera house will help contribute to us for this show. Never feel insecure or useless in this theater as everyone's help is needed. Do we have that clear?"

Not even a whisper or a sound of any human emotion or trace could be heard from the audience. But it was clear on Firmin's face that this felt more awkward to him than anyone else in the audience. No matter as he wiped that expression away and replaced it with some enthusiastic joy.

"Now, the opera that Andre, Reyer and I have discussed that we will be exhibiting is a Czech opera composed by Antonin Dvořák. It goes by the name of Rusalka," the confidence seemed to stay steady in Firmin who had recovered from his awkward moment. But he was nervous as he wasn't sure if his pronunciations of the names were correct. He still continued to speak. "This opera talks about a water creature whose name is Rusalka. Rusalka is the daughter of goblin who rules the waters she and her sisters live in. She is beautiful and lively, but the only catch is, is that she doesn't possess a human soul. Now she falls in love with a human prince and with such a longing to be with him, she visits a witch who gives her the ability to walk on land in exchange for her voice. However another catch follows with this bargain. If the prince is unfaithful to Rusalka then she will be damned for all eternity. The prince finds her while hunting and immediately falls in love with her. He arranges for them to be married despite the fact she cannot speak. However other people in the kingdom believe Rusalka is a witch due to the fact she is mute. A princess from another land attends a party before the wedding and the prince finds himself enchanted by her. He then acts rudely towards Rusalka and begins flirting with the other princess. Rusalka who realizes that the prince has been unfaithful, is rescued by her father who she can speak to because he is not human and she can therefore she can regain her voice. Her father swears to avenge his daughter leaving the prince to realize what he had done. However the princess turns out to be a crude woman and dams him as well with Rusalka, leaving the prince in sorrow. Rusalka is revisited by the witch who tells her that all can be repaired if she takes the prince's life and she even hands Rusalka a dagger to perform the task. Rusalka who realizes that she loves the prince no matter what, throws the dagger away only for her to become a bludička which a death spirit. The prince arrives back to the lake where he first found Rusalka and sees her again. Realizing how wrong he was towards her and how much he loves her, he wants to be with her. She manages to tell him that she can't kiss him or else then, she'll kill him. The prince doesn't care and he kisses her, dying in her arms. Rusalka realizes the importance of a soul, even though she is damned for eternity and returns to the lake commending the prince's soul to be saved by God," Firmin took a deep breath as that had been a mouthful for him to explain. But his power of explaining the opera's story had grabbed the audience's attention. Soon conversations were heard between members discussing the story which pleased Firmin greatly.

"Oh, such a sad story," a chorus member, Chantal commented.

"I would've killed the prince," Annelise cried.

Most the men in the company were silent, but they too were in deep thought over the character of Rusalka and her tragic.

In the back, Alethea whispered to Meg. "Why would they want to put on a depressing opera for a joyous event?"

Meg shrugged indefinitely. "Maybe they're hoping the audience will either take sympathy or that it may draw more attention back to the opera."

But it seemed to them that either Mme. Giry heard their comment or had been thinking the same thing when the managers had decided on this opera. She stood in her tall and elegant regalia and with such a respective air. She tapped her cane to silence the noise among the crowd.

"I suppose some of you may be wondering why we chose such a tragic opera for the reopening of this theater, but Rusalka possesses some of the most beautiful but also some of the most difficult pieces to sing and perform. If the audience can see how much effort we put to display a magnificent show for them, then they'll be more encouraged to come back," her answer seemed to make sense as to why Rusalka was chosen.

However out of nowhere, the audience was silenced along with the managers, Mme. Giry and Mon. Reyer when they all spotted something white and what looked to be like a feather float down to the stage. The manager's eyes popped open, but they were very hesitant to go to the white object which had been concluded to be a piece of paper.

Horrible memories flowed back through the manager's and Reyer's mind as they could recall the frightening incident that had plagued them three years ago. Mme, Giry retained her calm attitude and slowly approached toward the fallen paper. On closer inspection she realized that it was letter. She didn't pick it up, but she turned to the audience.

"No fear, tis is only a piece of paper," Mme. Giry still spoke as if she were so calm. "We're calling this the end of the meeting at the moment but we will meet later this evening. Please dismiss."

Everyone filed out of the theater, but not without chatter and gossip going about. The voices of the members echoed as they spoke about the opera and what had just happened. Alethea and Meg waited till they were behind everyone before they spoke.

"Meg, what was that?" Alethea turned around trying to spot anything that could answer her question. "The managers looked really scared. Something tells me that something's not right."

Meg also bore that same worried expression as her blue eyes bugged out, making the color stand out against her ballerina attire. "I'm worried too, Alethea. Couldn't you see the look in the manager's eyes? They were just terrified. But here, let's go to the chapel to talk."

The two hurried along with the others filing out of the theater room and back into the opera house. Both rushed quietly away as to not draw attention to themselves and as to not have anyone follow them.

When the audience had dispersed, Firmin and Andre along with Reyer were still both terrified by what they had seen. Even though it was just a piece of paper, it was enough to send shivers down their spines as the last time they had seen a white sheet of paper float down to the stage was three years ago.

When the Phantom of the Opera had plagued this house.

It couldn't be. They all prayed, even Mme. Giry prayed that it couldn't be. The Phantom of the Opera couldn't still linger here. But then Andre straightened himself up and marched slightly toward the letter.

"If the Phantom is here, then, we'll just hunt him back down to the catacombs along with the police and catch this crook once and for all," Andre declared raising his index finger to the ceiling as if he were the all supreme.

Mme. Giry remained unfazed and she stared at Andre as if he were an idiot. "Excuse me, Andre," she didn't use the formal address as she felt the confidence and the privilege to be able to address him like a friend. "After construction, when we four had been called back to return, we were properly introduced to the all the repairs and new structures. And we were promptly informed that all entrances to the cellars and catacombs had been closed off. When the police had gone down there last time, they had entered through an entrance that is now sealed off and any other way down there is either hidden or bricked up."

Andre nodded, reminiscing what they had been informed of when the construction had finished. "Well, then this must surely be a joke from one of the stage hands or just a sheet of paper." He looked up trying to see if he could pinpoint any stagehand up there that could've dropped it or could've played the prank. But there were absolutely no stage hands in sight, and then of course there couldn't be, as all members should have been sitting in the audience. The rafters looked completely empty and they would've been able to hear someone moving up there.

Mme. Giry finally drew up the courage to walk over and pluck up the letter from its resting place.

But then to all their horror, Mme. Giry turned the letter over very slowly and cautiously. Right on the other side, they could perfectly see with their own naked eyes what kept the letter sealed.

A mark they hadn't seen in ages.

A mark they could recognize anywhere.

A mark that terrified them all.

A red skull composed of wax.

Only one being possessed that seal.

**Hey, hope you enjoyed that. Again sorry if this story is moving too slow, but I promise that Erik will show up soon. The opera Rusalka is a real opera, but according to the internet, I think the opera was actually first shown in the 20th century, but I changed it to the 19th century to go with this story. **


	12. Revisting an Enemy

**Hey, readers! I'm back with another update. As I said, sorry if this story seems to be moving too slowly. Erik does appear in this chapter.**

Chapter 11

Revisiting an Enemy

Through the mass of people wandering through the opera house, Meg and Alethea were tugging themselves away, moving towards the chapel, where they could most likely converse alone. However, it wasn't a stroll in the park. Members everywhere were randomly standing and gossiping and some were just standing in the way.

"Why can't we just get through?" Alethea whispered to Meg.

Meg shrugged. "Because people can't tell when they have to move."

But before they could even be within one inch from the hallway to the chapel, they had the unfortunate luck of running into Mme. Giry with her stern look that seemed to restrict the wrinkles that should have been etching her face in her years.

"Meg, shouldn't you be practicing your ballet right now?" she questioned with the eyes of vulture. "You know that talent doesn't come without practice. How do you ever expect to be a principle here if you can't dedicate your time to study?"

The shame glistening in Meg's eyes intensified, but she bravely looked at her mother. "I'm sorry, Mama, but Alethea and I were just heading somewhere to talk."

"Well, I'm sorry, Meg, but you two may converse later," Mme. Giry didn't even give Meg a chance to speak, before she grabbed her daughter's arm and basically dragged her daughter toward the ballet studio.

"Please, excuse us, Alethea," Mme. Giry pardoned herself and Meg. "You and Meg may speak with each other later. And may I inquire, why don't you practice your piano then? We do have music rooms where I am sure you will find a piano."

Alethea nodded as she watched a miserable Meg get dragged down to the ballet studio. But before the two friends were out of eye contact with each other, Alethea caught Meg mouthing to her to wait for her in the chapel. Understanding what she was asked to do, Alethea rushed on towards the chapel. It had been so beautiful last time that she didn't hesitate to get going.

Sure enough, she found the very archway where the word 'Chapel' had been engraved at the top. Cautiously, she descended the stairs which would lead her to the little church. And indeed, she did find it again. It was still as beautiful as ever, with the rose window and the fresco of angels. The pews and benches and the candles. It was as beautiful as ever.

She decided to take a seat on one of the benches and quietly wait with her thoughts. This place was beautiful enough to distract her, but she should be practicing her piano instead. Also she should have been practicing her sword fighting and combat more often. Too many distractions were surrounding her.

Erik knew he was being reckless and an idiot for doing this, but he felt he had no choice. No, he was being more than reckless, he was asking for a death wish. This would be the greatest risk of his life to resurface and resurrect the phantom from the catacombs, but he felt he had no choice. Not since he heard that _girl_.

The very same girl who defeated him on the roof, the same girl who saw the monster's face. She didn't scream, but she did indeed look startled. And yet, even though his rage and anger was fueled by this defeat at the hands of a mere girl, he was enchanted just by hearing the sound her voice. The way she could sing. It was enough to reach the catacombs, enough to reach his heart and soul, enough to resurface and awaken the phantom yet again. And yet, the tragedy behind it all was the fact that her voice very much reminded him of Christine.

…_.Oh...Christine....._

He had written the note, he had been the one to send it down from the rafters. He had been the one to spike fear and terror in the managers' eyes again. And yet, they couldn't chase him down, the catacombs were closed and sealed off....or so they thought.....

And yet, it was all for that girl.

When he had heard her voice, everything else didn't matter. It reminded him why he roamed the cellars, why he lingered in the opera house living like a recluse. It was all for his love of music, the passion that he lived for. It didn't seem to matter if Christine were here or not, he still had one job and one job only, to keep the beauty in the music.

And he would find that girl despite the fact that he despised her, she had one feature to redeem herself which was her voice. He knew she would be the stubborn or at least most headstrong person he would most likely have to face up to. It would have been easier if he could manipulate her as easy as he had Christine, but then again, she was a child when he had first converse with her and therefore grew up with her innocence.

He saw her, he saw that girl, with the copper-brown hair and the violet or lavender eyes. She was wandering with little Giry, at least before her mother dragged her away to her studies, leaving the girl alone. He didn't even know her name and yet he was so fascinated by her.

She ran in the direction of the chapel.

_'Perfect'_ he thought to himself maniacally, rubbing his gloved hands together. He wasn't planning on exacting any revenge, but he did need somewhere where he could speak with her alone. Where no one else from the company could spy on them. She would be alone in the chapel, so it would be the perfect time to meet an old enemy.

He followed her and hid where he wouldn't be seen, but could still be heard.

"_Good Morning" _a ghostly chuckle reverberated throughout the chapel, startling Alethea. Her thoughts shot out of her own world and her eyes wandered frantically around her to find the source of the voice. There was no one, but it sounded like someone was right next to her.

"Who's there?" she cried out, panicked, but she calmed herself. Damn, where was her sword when she needed it?

Another ghostly chuckle followed her request. "Do you not remember? We did only meet a few nights ago."

All at once, Alethea recalled that night, the night that horrified yet fascinated her when she had the chance encounter with the Phantom of the Opera. She shook her head, her fear gone but she was frustrated; meeting him once was enough and she was in no mood to meet him again.

"What do you want?" she demanded settling herself. "I thought we agreed to something?"

The phantom chortled again and his voice seemed to rotate around the room. "The agreement didn't state anything about not meeting you again. However we did question the chances of meeting each other again. I did indeed warn you that when living under the same roof-oh, excuse me, it's my roof, that we would meet."

"Your roof?" Alethea's eyebrows arched in confusion.

The phantom laughed maniacally, echoing about the room and even sending shivers down the girl's spine. "Yes, may I inquire that now I have returned to the opera, rising out of the ashes finally. And it's all thanks to you."

Alethea's eyes widened in panic. What did he mean that he rose out of the grave because of her? But she startlingly realized that maybe he had been so enraged that night when they had their confrontation that it was enough to inspire him to return.

"So you're returning back to the opera all because you were defeated by a girl?" she questioned, trying to be more brave than she actually felt like she was.

"No, that's preposterous and ridiculous!" he stated like he was mocking her. "Since I had been one in construction when this place was first built, I had constructed it for the purpose that I can hear anything from anywhere. Even on that night, when you had snuck out onto the stage and I indeed heard you playing the piano, but what impressed me the most had been your singing."

Instead of being flattered, Alethea was enraged. How dare he heard her singing when she had meant that moment to be a private one. No one was around and then he eavesdropped on it all. Now she wished he were actually in her presence in real form so that she could fight him again. For the first time, she could have killed.

Shaking her head, she replied, "And why did you come back because of me?"

"I've yet to hear any talent of such vocal range coming from any of these members that have come to the opera house," he answered, his ghostly voice rotating about the room like a real ghost's. "But your voice, your voice can be the one. However that song that you sung can't qualify you yet to be a prima donna, however I can tell you are indeed a soprano. And I ask of you in the most un-hostile way, will you sing for me, sing for me a song where I can judge you to see if you can be an opera singer."

But Alethea was already on a snap decision to answer. "No," she replied folding her arms together. "As much as I love singing, my heart can only be with my piano. I thank you for your wonderful comment, but I can't betray my loyalty to the piano."

Even though she had expected him to get angry at her for her stubbornness, he laughed yet again to her puzzlement.

"You have a talent, I know you can expand upon that talent," he commented to her like a father. "If you change your mind and decide to ask for my help, just find the dressing room with the doorknob that has the rose vine engraved in it. I do not doubt for any second that you will deny my aid. Till then, I only hope you don't hesitate and waste what God gave you."

"What if someone inhabits that dressing room?" Alethea shot back, trying to confuse the phantom this time.

But he calmly sighed. "My dear, I am the Phantom of the Opera. I know all and I see all. I will gamble my life and bet you that no one lives in that dressing room just yet. Don't hesitate till the last minute before you decide you want my help."

His voice faded, leaving Alethea to ponder on her thoughts. He had actually spoke to her and and had actually complimented her. But Alethea pondered more on his offer of helping her with her singing. She loved it, singing had been one of her favorite activities when she was a child and she could remember her voice merging in harmony with her mother's when she was younger. But perhaps singing could also help her piano. After all if she could become a famous singer then, maybe it would attract people's attention to her piano skills as well. Then, again, if she didn't succeed as a pianist, she could have a career in her other favorite talent so she would be able to do something she loved and something that could hopefully secure her livings so she wouldn't ever have to worry about being on the streets begging. Besides singing was just as beautiful as piano. And she did love to sing and she loved opera as well. But could she really ask for help from her enemy, or really the ghost that had caused so much tragedy three years ago?

He had offered.

Inhaling a deep and thoughtful breath, she tried to remember what he had told her. _"The dressing room.....door knob......rose vine......engraved...." _She would take this chance and would request for help from the phantom. After all from all the tales she had heard of him, he was a connoisseur in music and would therefore be the best teacher for her.

She scurried out of the chapel as quick as a mouse. She would have to tell Meg that she had another errand to run, so they would have to talk later. But she could most likely tell that Meg would be in practice till she would be the one who would retire first.

Alethea hurried to find the dressing room, after all, it would be another adventure just to find another room in this place that was like a maze or rooms and statues and carvings.

She just hoped she would find the right room and she hoped that the ghost would be there as he promised.

**Well, I hope that chapter was satisfying. Thank you to my readers and reviewers. I do hope you guys are still reading this. There will still be more Erik and Alethea in the next chapter and Christine and Raoul will return to the story soon enough. Till then, I hope you all are still reading and please review. **


	13. Dressing Room Lesson

**Sorry for the long wait, you guys, but I wasn't in the mood to write fanfiction for a while. And I had driving school as well. After all, all writers need a vacation, I just hope you guys don't think I'm lazy. Well, here's the next chapter. **

Chapter 12

Dressing Room Lesson

The clock must have already struck the hours of the late afternoon, in Alethea's mind as she wandered down the hallways, looking for that dressing room, the phantom had instructed her to locate. Upon glancing at the shadows where the sunshine managed to escape in, it was clearly not even on the western horizon yet.

_'Why did they reconstruct this place as a maze?'_ Alethea cried, gripping her hair as she yet again, found herself at a dead end. The phantom should have given her more detailed directions. She was almost ready to give up, till she raced past a hallway with rose wallpaper trailing down the wall. Luckily she caught that detail out of the corner of eye and steadily skidded to a stop, before turning around. A sweat drop already trailing down her temple. Her hair must have been in disarray right now, but what did it matter? She was going to meet a man, she quite had a displeasure with so why would he care what she looked like?

She only prayed this was the hallway where she would find the dressing room, he mentioned, but it only occurred to her, how deserted this hallway and in fact this area of the opera house was. For a second, she thought she had literally entered a new opera house but she was smart enough to remember she hadn't left.

Tentatively, she treaded down the hall, not forgetting to glance at the doorknobs and make note of the one with the rose vine engraved into it.

Quicker than she expected, she came across a dressing room; the only difference with this dressing room was that it was a two-door entrance while all the other rooms had one door to get in. She gripped one of the doorknobs and beneath her fingertips, she felt little bumps and crevices. Her eyes fell on the doorknob and she beheld with her own eyes, a rose vine carved into the brass work. This was _it!_

_'This better be the room he was talking about,'_ an exasperated expression that was frustrated yet angry mood overshadowed her personality. With utmost confidence she pressed down on the knob and pushed the door open with all her strength like a vagabond in the desert who finally found the promise of an oasis.

The room was pitch black dark with no window.

"Hello?" her voice shook a little with fear. "Hello?" she called out in the darkness again, awakening the courage to step inside.

But once she fully entered inside, _bang!_ She jumped and whispered a scream under her breath, covering her mouth. Someone was in here. The phantom of course! But even though, she knew it must have been him, she was still deathly afraid for her life, the adrenaline pumping and she realized she was shaking uncontrollably.

Reaching her hands out into the darkness, she felt around for any trace of a person or something in here that could illuminate this room. She wasn't afraid of the dark, but she was indeed terrified of who was in here, even though she knew it must be the phantom.

Her hand hit against the wall and she pounded her hands against the wall trying to find a knob or some light switch. Her fingers danced onto a little cold metal button; she prayed it was a some switch she could use. She pushed down on the button, but it didn't budge. Frantically she tried to switch it on, but it still didn't budge. The last resort she saw in her mind, she slowly turned the knob, which first relieved her, because it gave her hope that this was a light switch and then, she realized the room was beginning to light up.

_A light switch!_ She grasped her breath and calmed herself. But the moment was short-lived as she shot her eyes wide open and scanned and observed the room from wall to wall, trying to detect if anyone else was in there with her.

It was empty.

A familiar ghostly chuckle echoed in there, but as if it were right next to her ear. And she knew, without a doubt that the phantom had entered.

"Good day," he greeted like a cheery man, "Thank you for reconsidering my offer."

"I reconsidered on the account of my piano," Alethea stubbornly answered, her will as brave as ever, like the night she first met him.

The phantom chortled yet again as if this were some joke to his amusement. To Alethea, she downright thought him to be arrogant.

"Well, it doesn't matter to me, why you reconsider," a chill danced down Alethea's spine as the ghost uttered his words. "I only care for the outcome of this opera house, which is why I need you."

"Did you ever actually listen to the other girls in the chorus?" cried Alethea, defending herself, trying to outwit the phantom yet again. "Did you actually hear their voices?"

Yet, again another laugh from the phantom formed goosebumps on her skin. "I need not to listen to any other twit than yours. Your voice had a purity, a vocal range that I know you can succeed with. And I know a voice like yours could never be found in any other girl in this opera house. That's why you were my chosen."

"Your chosen?" Alethea was outraged by a comment like that. She hated when other people would try to make her sound more like a possession than an real person. "Sir, I came here out of my own will, not because of you."

"Say what you like," he answered, his ego unharmed by her stubbornness. " I must say, before any of our lessons begin, this is the only time when I will make an exception to the lesson being in the day light time. All our other lessons will still be in this room, but I require at night."

An explanation wasn't needed. Alethea could already guess the reason why. "I have a feeling that only right now the hallway where this dressing room is, is empty. But soon, people will move into the dressing rooms next door."

"And, because you have your own duties in the day, which not even I should distract you from those," replied the ghost as his voice accumulated into the room. "The night time better suits me as well."

"What if someone inhabits this room eventually?" the question popped into her head as she herself was almost baffled by what to do if that happened. "That would be the most awkward act for me to commit by walking into someone's dressing room and speaking with a ghost who's supposed to be dead."

But she knew before she had a chance to breath after that remark that the phantom already answered her question. "I am the phantom, I have the power to control what goes on here. The managers will never find me again, not after reconstruction, which has closed all the entrances to my home, or at least only the ones that they knew."

He had answered another question Alethea was about to inquire. She was about to question him about whether he would fear her turning him over to the managers, but now she knew everything that had once led them to him was locked.

"Now, my time will soon be short, so I must ask of you to sing me a song, where you can express the full vocal range of your voice. I would prefer you singing something where I may hear a high note from you," he was like a demanding child now, but he was in a hurry.

Searching through her mind, like on a world conquest, Alethea scanned through every song she was ever taught and tried to see if one would hit her highest vocal range. But there was one song in particular, a song that had been one of her favorites that her mother once taught her. She only hoped it would please this phantom.

Inhaling a deep breath, she first warmed her voice up with a few scales, she didn't need a tutor to know that warm-ups are always required before anything. She warmed her voice, hitting her notes, low and high. And then she opened her voice and sang.

_We are the lucky ones  
We shine like a thousand suns  
When all of the color runs together_

_I'll keep you company  
In one glorious harmony  
Waltzing with destiny forever_

_Dance me into the night  
Underneath the full moon shining so bright  
Turning me into the light_

_Time dancers whirling past  
I gaze through the looking glass  
And feel just beyond my grasp is heaven_

_Sacred geometry  
Where movement is poetry  
Visions of you and me forever_

_Dance me into the night  
Underneath the full moon shining so bright  
Turning me into the light_

_Dance me into the night  
Underneath the full moon shining so bright  
Let the dark waltz begin  
Oh let me wheel - let me spin  
Let it take me again  
Turning me into the light _

She breathed, her voice slightly exhausted by singing. She was use to singing but she hadn't ever reached a high note like that in a while.

"Bravo. Bravo," complimented the phantom, as she heard him clap like a proud teacher. "That is all I require for today. Tomorrow night, be back in this room at the hour before midnight. Be prompt as I do not take to those who decide to be late."

"I understand, but you may have to excuse me for being late tomorrow, as I might get lost again, trying to find this hallway," Alethea answered composing herself. "After all, it was like an adventure just trying to figure which hallway this room was in."

"Tomorrow night will be the only exception," ordered the phantom, stern and serious which did intimidate Alethea a little bit. "And may I ask of you one more thing?"

Alethea turned around as she had been heading out before he stopped her. "And what may that be?"

"Your name, please," he sounded like a calm gentleman who had been polite for once second.

Even, though she didn't want to seem sincere to someone who was as arrogant as the phantom, she knew that respect wouldn't be given to her, if she didn't give it first.

"My name is Alethea. Alethea Lanquerx," she answered, proud of her name. "But I ask of you now, is there any other name I can address you with, other than the phantom or teacher?"

An ominous silence followed troubling Alethea. For a second, she believed he truly left or was just simply ignoring her. She turned to leave, when her hand gripped the door knob.

"You may call me Erik," the voice commanded, still in her very presence.

Alethea quite liked the name. "Erik," she uttered under her breath, trying to get used to saying that name. It was unlike the phantom though; she almost thought it unusual for him to possess such a name like that. "It's a handsome name."

"Oh, yes, it is, a nice little thing to compensate for my ugliness isn't it?" Erik absorbed that comment like an insult, but spoke like an aristocrat. "Are you still afraid of me? Of my face?"

His choice of words astounded her. Now, she felt like she had been the one insulted. Her hand dropped from the door knob and she turned around to face the room. In a sympathetic manner, she spoke from her heart.

"Your face did grasp my attention, that night," her voice was quiet for the first time she remembered in a long time, scaring herself a bit. But a time like this wasn't the time to be a mouse. "But I am not afraid of you. It didn't matter to me if your face had been the most handsomest or the most repulsive. You are still a person, a human being. Yes, your face is different, but no horror to me."

Another awful silence befell upon the room.

"Go," Erik ordered sternly and yet, compassionately. "They'll be missing you."

Alethea nodded, before she opened the door and for a second she was hesitant to walk out.

**I apologize again for the long wait, but now that I'm out of driving school, I'll have more time to update this. Thank you again my patient readers. **


	14. New Opinions and New Feelings

Chapter 13

New Opinions and New Feelings

Night arrived sooner than expected, especially in Alethea's eyes. It was after curfew when everyone was required to be in bed, except for an official and stage hands had an exception. Alethea laid comfortably in bed, watching for when it would hit close to eleven o' clock. Erik required her presence by then and she would need to leave her room a little earlier so she may find her way in the dark. But then again, she didn't want to find herself in trouble.

It was ten-thirty according to the grandfather clock in the dorm she and Meg were sleeping in. Quietly slipping out of bed, Alethea thought it best to disguise herself as a man again. If she were to be caught, she could pass herself off as a stage hand.

Opening her trunk, she dug out her pair of black pants, her dark boots and a white, puffed-sleeve shirt. Managing to tie her hair back into a braid, she hid it under a hat. She had masked herself as the opposite gender yet again, but she decided to leave her actual black mask behind. This time, she left her locket clasped on her neck, instead of leaving it behind as well. The locket always seemed to bring some fortunate luck to her as well. She tucked it under her shirt; it was precious to her and she wanted it to be as close to her as possible. After making sure she had absolutely everything on her, she exited the room without Meg stirring from her sleep.

Maybe it was her talent at memorizing direction well, but it didn't seem to consume as much of her time as it did last time she had to hunt down the dressing room. It was much faster this time as she found herself in the right hallway and at the right dressing room, surprisingly. And with better luck, she hadn't even been caught by any stage hands or officials.

"Hello," she cried out in the dark room. Her fingers fumbled in the dark again till they found the exact same light switch that morning. She closed the door behind her, making sure no one else was in the hallway with her or had been following.

"Good Evening. A familiar attire, I see you have on," the same ghostly voice greeted her, but she wasn't afraid or nervous any longer.

She smiled, closing her eyes. "You should remember this outfit. I wore something like this the night we met." What startled her more, was that she felt herself giggling a bit after that statement. "Pleasant night isn't it?"

"I see you were able to find your way here, and right on time," he spoke like the teacher that he was at the moment. "I'm impressed Alethea, you manage to surprise me every time I meet you. First your sword fight and combat. Your voice has left a deep impression on me and now I find your promptness flattering as well."

"Thank you, Erik," Alethea bowed in a joke, proud that she managed to cause such an impression. "For a reclusive ghost, you do know how to flatter a woman. Shall I assume, from your relationship with Christine Daae that you managed to learn how to do that?"

"I wish you wouldn't bring that up, Mademoiselle Lanquerx," his voice became dark and disturbing. "It isn't wise for me to be revisiting my memories at the moment."

Alethea realized she had hit him in a very personal thought. Automatically, she knew she was foolish for having to bring up something that must have been extremely painful to her new teacher. After all, she herself should have been aware of how much torture he must have endured, throughout his life due to the fact his face wasn't perfect. Something so personal and emotional, even she knew that she shouldn't be meddling herself in.

"Forgive me for my foolishness, Erik," she asked, with soft dignity to show him that she was apologetic, but that she wouldn't be scared or pushed around. "Even though I am twenty, I have a tendency to still make mistakes."

There was a silence during which Alethea was afraid that maybe she had insulted him more severely than she believed and must have left. But she was wrong when he spoke, "Do not fear for my feelings, Mademoiselle, but please don't touch upon subjects like that. It's not comfortable for me."

It was daunting how calm he was sounding compared to the previous time they met, when he was in his most aggressive wrath that she had ever seen. This time was different; he was being a friendly gentleman to her and in that one moment, her opinion of him, was changing.

"So, shall we begin?" he requested, seeming to reclaim his demeanor.

Alethea nodded to herself and looked about her surroundings, filled with some sort of hope that she could see the phantom yet again. "Yes, we can. What did you think of my voice?"

"It was a brilliance I haven't heard of in years, hence why I chose to train you. Your pitch and range were perfect, but you were beginning to weaken a little when you were reaching the higher notes of the song," his analysis of her voice was superb. All just by listening to her sing, he could detect all her weaknesses and strengths with her voice. "If you are to be Rusalka, I need you to be the nightingale who sings in the mystery of the night. Please, sing me a few scales first, and then I would like to hear your highest note."

Clearing her throat, Alethea was quite nervous to sing. At first, she hadn't been distressed at singing for the ghost, but now that saw the true genius of his musical talent, she was afraid, she wouldn't be able to impress him like he stated he had been before. At first, she thought him to be a menace that she could live with, but now, she could tell, he was much different that the ferocious monster she had encountered that night. He had features about him that compensated for his other horrors.

She sung her scales, hitting her 'la's' and 'aw's'. She made sure her voice was comfortable and strong enough, yet still relaxed. She inhaled her breathing to make sure her voice would be coming from her diaphragm and she vibrated her highest note, to the point where she could have believed herself to be a banshee.

It was only a few moments before her voice gave and she found herself gasping for breath. It might have been the stress or the effect it took, but she couldn't hold that much anymore.

"Good, good, you did well with that," she could hear the tapping of his hands joining together quietly applauding her. "Your range did hit a new octave, but still a little low for singing Rusalka."

"How are you so sure I can even sing in this opera? I didn't even audition to be in the chorus," she stated skeptical of his belief that she would be singing in the opera for the reopening.

His chortles could be heard pulsating around the vicinity. And right away, Alethea could fathom that Erik knew what he was doing and therefore she would have no worries about what to do about the opera.

"You are quite an interesting character, Erik," she declared, unafraid of how he would react to that comment.

"How so?" he asked amused by what she was saying to him. Yet, at the same time, Erik was also flattered by her. He hadn't heard anyone say that about him, not even Christine. He, himself knew how unique and monstrous he was, but he hadn't heard it from anyone else yet.

Exhausted by how long she had been standing, Alethea took a seat in the chair right in front of the giant vanity. She stretched her muscles out a bit, distracting herself for a second, before answering her teacher's question. "Well, even though you don't possess the most handsome face, you recompense for it with your musical genius. At times, you can be an aggressive fighter, but at a time like this, you are a perfect gentleman. And as well, you may be a human man, but you possess the qualities of a ghost. I know of your reclusive home from the cellars of this house. Is it as beautiful as what the police report had documented?"

"Someday, I will let you see it, when I think I can come to trust you as a loyal pupil," even though there had been some things Erik wished he hadn't heard in her description of him, he was still exalted by her praise of him. Only a few nights ago, she had been the source of his anger and rage and though he believed he wouldn't see her as anything else, but a singing girl, he was found she was more than just that. Though, he knew she was witty, he didn't believe she could be forgiving of someone that had attempted to attack and kill her. Yes, she had been slightly hostile to him at first, but she was beginning to soften on her opinion of him.

"How long have you been living here?" she took a chance of asking him a question, which she hoped he would at least answer or she hoped that he wouldn't be insulted by her.

He sighed, his breathing was obvious to Alethea. She could tell that maybe this wasn't such a pleasant topic to be discussing with him. "I've lived here for the majority of my life. Safe away from humanity's harm. You wonder how I can be so hostile. Well, it's because man's treatment towards me has made me that way."

"I'm sorry, but surely there must have been some who showed you kindness and compassion," she insisted, unconsciously finding herself toying with her locket. Her thoughts drifting into his words.

Erik sighed yet again; he hid behind the mirror, exactly where he use to hide away when he would tutor Christine. But he released himself of his thoughts about her and focused on Alethea. "I can only say to which I must ask of you to seal your lips, but the only one who's showed me one ounce of kindness in this lifetime has been Madame Giry. She's the one who brought me here, from............never mind."

He regretted his last sentence as he was aware that he had just sparked an exciting notion in Alethea. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that she wanted to know more now.

"Where did you come from?" she didn't look in the direction of the mirror, but rather off the the side of the vanity, still toying with her locket. Her voice was quiet, not filled with any excitement or yearning as he had expected. "If you are not able to explain to me, I understand, but I wish I could know."

For some odd reason, what she had just said, only made him feel more comfortable with telling her. He wasn't sure why. But he could trust her with some of his secrets. After all, so far she had been loyal to him and it wasn't as if it would endanger his life any more if she knew.

"I ran away from my mother's house when I was only a boy, but of course, what family or person would take me in with such a monstrosity?" it was almost like he was trying to mock himself, as he was recalling his own childhood memories and all the pain that had to come with it from the beginning. "My mother use to beat me and curse me, asking herself why God had to bestow such a horrid-looking child upon a woman like her. I ran, but of course, as a child, I couldn't survive long without needing some food or water. That night, I happened to stumble upon a circus run by gypsies. In an attempt to steal some food, I was caught. I remember the mocking man who saw me and then called attention from everyone else. They decided to put me into the show, but in a freak show exhibit where I was known as 'The Devil's Child' and I was-"

"Stop!" Alethea cried; the pain of this story which was beginning to affect her as well. She was so heartbroken by what she was hearing from him. Of course, she knew about those who were beaten and tortured by humanity, but she didn't believe the phantom could have endured that much cruelty. It was hurting her own heart as well. "I..I don't know what to say. The only thing that crosses my mind is I'm sorry."

"Thank you, but your sympathy will do nothing for me," he replied, dignified and confident as he was, but there was a tender weakness in him, that appreciated what she was saying to him. It wasn't ever usual for him to receive such compassion from a person, especially a woman. "Nothing can change the past. I must have been stuck in that carnival, for what seemed to be forever, but it was only years. You can't imagine the taunts and laughs I had to live with each time I was on display. Sometimes, people would even beat me from outside the cage I dwelled in."

"You were in a cage?!" as if the story could have gotten any worse, it just did. When he said he was put into an exhibit, Alethea only thought, maybe a platform or some pedestal where people would only walk by, receive a few frights and be on their way. But she had never heard of trapping a human being in a cage. It was abhorrent and unbelievable.

"I was indeed trapped in a cage, having to watch all the other people who were free to come and go. I was completely alone," he hadn't spoken about these incidents nor had he even tried to recall them in years, but it was even destroying him on the inside to have to reminisce his own story. "One night, the circus came into Paris. I was only preparing myself for what taunts and jeers I would have had to apprehend that night. In that crowd, I saw Madame Giry, but when she was younger. My age. I must have been fourteen or fifteen, but I saw her, a brown-haired girl who looked upon me with sympathy for the first time. I will admit was touched by her expression, but I knew that no matter what, I was still trapped. But I refused to be an animal anymore. After all, I was in Paris and I wanted to finally free myself. That night after the people were beginning to leave, I took some rope from inside my cage and I was able to apprehend my master before I finally freed myself from my cage."

"You killed him, didn't you?" Alethea had expected herself to have reacted more strongly against that, but for some reason she couldn't. If she had to kill to get away from that horrible circus, she was sure she would have been able to do it. "He was horrible to you, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was indeed, when I had escaped, I knew someone would find him, but I didn't care. I needed to get away as soon as possible. But when I was exiting the tent, I saw _her. _Madame Giry, well, her name was Antoinette. It was like she had been waiting for me," he could clearly remember Antoinette Giry as she had been when he saw her. As young as he was when he first met her. "She didn't hesitate, she simply grabbed my hand and dragged me away. But the time, we had even gotten close to the opera, we knew a mob was already chasing us down. At first, it seemed there was no other way till, she dragged me to one of the sewer drains and insisted I get down into there. At first I was very skeptical to trust her, but I would have rather been in that sewer than back into that cage where I was sure I would receive the death sentence. So I climbed in. And here, I was in the opera. And I've been here, ever since Antoinette brought me here. She's been so kind to me."

It charmed Alethea that Madame Giry did that for Erik. At first, she believed that Madame Giry was just another obsessed ballerina who had missed her chances with a yearning for her daughter to succeed in her place, but now, even she could shed a new light upon that woman.

"Well, I'm sure, you've had enough stories for one night, perhaps it is time you should retire," suggested Erik, who was showing genuine concern for his new pupil. "After all, I don't want my new student to be too exhausted. Antoinette will scold you for that."

Alethea nodded, left with a deep impression of this ghost. She thought she would know enough of him, but clearly she was wrong. She stood up to leave and tucked her locket back into her shirt. "Shall I return here tomorrow night?"

"Yes, now please, go rest," and he did really feel such concern for her. Even though, it had only been their second lesson, counting that one that was earlier that day, he was beginning to soften for this girl. She was witty and strong-willed, yet also strangely kind and compassionate, almost like Antoinette had been.

She was different

And even he couldn't deny that he was eager to see her again for their next lesson.

**Sorry if Alethea sounded too much like a Mary Sue in this chapter, but I wanted her to show that she sympathized with Erik and that she could care about what happened to him. Hope you enjoyed this update. It's one of the longest chapters I've written. Till then please review. **


	15. Returning Back to the Opera House

Chapter 14

Returning Back to the Opera House

It was early Sunday morning when Christine took her breakfast. She sipped her honeysuckle tea and took to her toast. After that chilly winter, her emotional sense was healing. She took her medicine and listened to what the doctor had prescribed and she found herself all the well better. No, she would be lying to herself if she were to say she forget everything about her sister; she kept her locket with her close to her heart, with her sister's little portrait and little dried forget-me-not tucked inside with it.

The early morning light showered into her quarters which warmed her and she was calmed by the sing-song melodies of the little birds outside who were singing their little harmonious dreams. It did however sadden her a bit, as it brought back memories that were existing in a coma in her mind from three years before. She missed singing very dearly. But she decided to put that behind her, after all, she was a comtese, with a loving husband, a warm and beautiful home, and many wonderful and kind people surrounding her. Surely she had no reason to be in despair or in agony. After all she did have a surprise for Raoul as well.

Right as she caught him in her mind, a soft rap tapped upon her doors and immediately expected who it was going to be.

Standing up and straightening her skirts, she cleared her throat, which was in no need of tunning and spoke, clear and fine, "Come in."

Raoul entered without hesitation after her words. His face was warm and comforting today and he expressed the utmost welcome. "Good morning, Christine. I trust you slept well?"

"Oh, yes, very well, especially after following the doctors advice. He told me that I have been progressing very well," she answered, taking her seat again and tending to her breakfast as Raoul took a seat with her. He held the daily paper in his hands.

"Raoul," the comte felt the warm gentle hands of his dear wife press into his arm. He glanced upon her sweet, angelic face, her bright twinkling blue eyes sparkling with delight. And he knew that she must definitely be doing well.

"Yes, my sweet Christine," he placed his hand upon hers.

Christine stood up and walked over to where she was behind him. Her two hands fell onto her husband's shoulders and she shimmered a brilliant smile. "Oh, Raoul, I have some wonderful news. The doctor told me that I had been progressing very well and oh there was something else the doctor told me. Something that filled me with such joy. Raoul, let me tell you, that soon you will be hearing the pitter patter of tiny footsteps wandering around this house."

Luckily Raoul had hesitated his sip of tea and he immediately set the cup down and turned around to embrace his wife. "Oh, Christine, are you telling me that you're.......with child?"

She nodded to which her husband reacted by embracing her tightly to him, almost to the point where she thought she was losing consciousness.

"Oh, Christine, I am so happy, for you, for me!" he cried picking her up and spinning her around in small circles, listening to her innocent laughter, knowing that she was carrying his heir. The blessing that was bestowed upon them both seemed to be incomprehensible.

Raoul finally set his wife back on her feet so as to not cause any stress or discomfort to her or the baby. However as soon as he set Christine back down, her expression darkened much to Raoul's puzzlement. He turned to look in the direction she was fixedly gazing at. He hadn't noticed the page at which he had left his newspaper laying. He regretted not watching where he had left off.

Right in the middle of the page in large bold words, it was printed: **Garnier Opera Populaire Re-Opened**.

Like a victim of a trance, Christine slowly approached the paper, each step slowing her down even more. Her pale hands and fingers carefully grasped the delicate paper and she stared down at the words, her blue eyes, clouded with fear and terror. The memories rushed through her, spiking every inch of her soul. She nearly collapsed if it weren't for Raoul who rushed over to prevent her from doing so. His wife breathed heavily and he feared for her condition along with the baby. They had been doing so well and their day had only brightened with her joyous news and now it had been overshadowed by a ghost of something they had thought would have been long buried by now.

"Raoul!" Christine gasped, gripping his arm tightly, Raoul was afraid he was losing the blood circulation in his arm. "Please tell me that I am just hallucinating and that it's only a sign of pregnancy clouding my judgment!"

Raoul picked up his wife, helping her to her feet. She didn't let go of his arms, her hands shaking uncontrollably and Raoul was pondering on calling the doctor for his wife. He shushed her quietly, calming, but not even he could deny the sudden impact of seeing an object of a traumatic past resurrected.

What if?

_No!_ He tried to convince himself to no avail. The phantom, he must be dead. There would have been no way he could have escaped the police. He must either be dead or in a prison cell. The Comte didn't dare attempt to think of him, a free man, wandering out there in the wilderness with a high chance of attacking and shattering his happy life with his sweetheart.

"Raoul! It can't be!" his young bride's eyes were hazy as if she were to collapse over again. "Please tell me I am being tricked by my imagination!"

But to her disappointment, her husband shook his head regretfully. "I am sorry, Christine, but it there, in plain ink. Unless if the both of us are being tricked by the fairies, the truth lies there."

Christine finally released his arms and turned away from him. She moved toward the bay window where she looked out upon the beautiful countryside of Paris. Right along the border of her peripheral vision, she could see the grand city of Paris right in front of her eyes. It was no mere trick of the eye that she could see the turquoise dome that outlined the opera house. And there it was, the truth that she didn't want to believe. Didn't want to see.

"Raoul, I must go back!" she declared abruptly, her eyes fixed on the city of Paris. "I must go back. My closure is needed."

Her husband's stern hands fell on her shoulders and his warm breath tickled her neck. "Christine. You don't know what you're asking. Do you think you can even go back?"

"Raoul, these ghosts have haunted me," she murmered guiless and direct. "They've haunted me for years. I thought, I had let go. Raoul, I must go back. I have to make my amends. If I don't, I don't think I can move on. I thought I had let go, completely, but just now, when I saw that paper, I only realized how empty and incomplete I feel. Please, let me go back. What harm could it do to me? Let me have my closure and I can finally live on and continue our life and raise this baby."

Raoul couldn't answer to her what he feared could still be lingering at the opera. He knew that he must have been paranoid, but he couldn't help but shake this awareness that something was wrong. But he couldn't tell Christine, he didn't want to burden her with his own troubles, especially what she had been through so far. But he did indeed fear that if he didn't explain what was troubling him, then it would eventually involve both him and Christine and he didn't want something like what had occurred three years ago to occur again, especially now that his wife was critical condition.

"Christine," he gripped her shoulder gently and hugged her from behind. "Are you sure you want to do this? I will only go back with you if you truly want this."

"Raoul, please understand," she hugged him back. "I promise everything will be fine. After all, I would also like to see what has become of the opera house. It must be beautiful."

"If that is what you wish, Christine," he whispered low in her ear and could only anticipate the chain of events that were about to occur.

**Hey, guys, I'm back, sorry for the long update, but if you've read my profile, I did give a heads-up that I will be busy in August so I don't know when I will find time to update, but I will try to update as much as possible. Thank you my readers and reviewers and I hope you're not too bored with this story yet. **


	16. One Week Later

Chapter 15

One Week Later

The opera was progressing well along its way, but the theater was all in a bustle getting ready for the show which wasn't going to premiere for another few weeks. Alethea's voice lessons were progressing as well, but Erik seemed to have been a little more distant in opening up his personal life to her since he explained the tale of his childhood. However Alethea couldn't help but want to learn more about him. Her opinion of him had changed since she heard what he had to endure.

Her eyes were overshadowed with dark circles, she hadn't been able to get enough sleep as she used her other hours of the night to practice her sword fighting and her combat, only to sneak in only a few hours of sleep. But she managed better than Meg, who seemed to sleep like a log no matter what.

Alethea yawned, stretching her arms, watching a rehearsal of the show from behind the stage. They had already casted the part of Rusalka which was given to Edith, a girl far from modest and kind. In fact, some former members could speculate that she was either a relative of Carlotta's or some image of her. Well, everyone found an easy distaste to the woman.

It was late already so the last rehearsal was performed and Edith found herself flocked by other chorus members who were able to worship her. And yet, Alethea couldn't help but catch a crude smirk from Edith. Rather than acknowledging her acrimony, Alethea crept away from the rehearsal, wishing Meg were with here to converse, but Meg was practicing her ballet. It was too early to be heading to her voice lesson with Erik. She was in no mood to return to her dorm, but she had no where else to go. She was sick of being cooped up in a music room, practicing on the piano for all afternoon.

And yet, the best idea came to her. Instead of having to worry about being late to her music lesson, she could be there before him. The dressing room would be the best place for peace and quiet and she wouldn't have to worry about being prompt.

She she rushed off away from the snobbish people to find her peace.

The dressing room was closer to her now, maybe it was because she was faster at running or because she knew the direction to the dressing room better now. Whatever it was, it only made her happy that she could be away from people faster.

Luckily the hall was empty as it usually was and she felt like she were walking down the corridor of some Gothic mansion. The dressing room was where it always had been and she locked herself into that room in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was because she spent her nights in that room singing, or some other reason, to why she felt warm and comforted when she was in that room.

Sitting in there, she sighed and pondered on what her lessons were coming to. Erik had explained to her that her voice was getting stronger and to the point where she may audition to be an understudy for Edith, but from what Erik seemed to be hinting at was that he wanted Alethea to be singing on opening night as the lead.

Alethea yawned and as she yawned she spotted from the corner of her eye, a beam of light, rather a line of light. And what pecked her interest the most was that it was igniting from the side of the grand mirror. She turned and her eyes wandered aimlessly about trying to find the source of the light that could be reflecting from the mirror. But the light didn't even seem to be bouncing off the reflective glass, it looked like it was escaping from an open corner on the side of the mirror.

She treaded carefully toward the grand mirror and she realized that something must have been on the other side of the looking glass if light were to be escaping from it. Her fingers fell upon the glass and with tiny strength she forced the mirror aside and it slide open easily to her surprise.

_A secret passage!_

Her eyes were ready to roll back into her head and she felt faint for the first time. She heard numerous rumors of secret passages that the phantom had used in the opera house and here before her, she had found one! This was how Erik managed to enter his voice into this room without his physical appearance.

Before her, a long cold corridor lit by torches and candelabras. All lit, as if prepared for a visit from Erik.

Alethea knew she should have been respectful to Erik's privacy, but she couldn't help but wander down into the corridor. However she knew that it would be dangerous and foolish of her to leave this secret passage opened like this. The possibilities of someone else wandering into here and discovering the secret passage was just horrid, especially, if Erik should be down there and he was suppose to be assumed dead. She turned and saw to her astonishment that even though she could see her reflection from inside the dressing room, behind the mirror, she could look perfectly into the room, without any reflecting glass at all.

Carefully and quietly, she slide the glass door back into place and made sure it was securely in before she wandered down into the passage, the candelabras lighting her way, she only feared losing herself in this labyrinth. What would she do if she lost herself forever into the catacombs? Would anyone notice? Of course Meg and Erik would notice, but would they actually be able to find her? After all, was Erik familiar with all the passages under the opera house?

But she decided to take her chances and follow down the dark corridor, hoping that she would find her way back. As long as there was light, she could find her way, hopefully.

Deep, dark music resonated in her ears, from a certain direction. It was somber yet filled with a rage and anger. An iciness that sent chills down the girl's spine. Alethea wished she had brought her sword or had changed her clothes for something like this. She followed the music, as if lost in its trance. It was beautiful despite the meaning it seemed to clarify. She wanted to follow it, hoping that it wouldn't be some trick that would led to her certain death.

Water was running down the path as well, Alethea was sure of that. There could be no trick of the mind like that. But where was that water coming from? It seemed to flow in the direction of the music, as if the music were its master.

She ran toward it, the passage still lit for her, but she feared when the light would run out and she would be left in the dark abyss. She ran down flights of stairs, making sure she wouldn't trip on her dress skirt. Her steps echoed throughout the underground, for which she feared attracting the attention of Erik or even perhaps someone worse.

But she wasn't afraid, she followed till she came, to her bewilderment, she found....a lake!

It was a dark lake as well, but she found no way to cross it. That was when she realized that the music seemed to be coming from.....the water? She tried to disbelieve that thought, but she swore she heard the dark songs whispering from the water. She bent down on her knees and bent a little closer to the water. Sure enough to no trickery, the source of the beautiful melody was rising from the water.

Two arms shot out of the cold water and seized her out of nowhere. Before she could react or scream, she was dragged down under the dark lake. The iciness of the water stabbing at her like a thousand daggers. One arm wrapped around her tightly and prevented her from using her arms, the other arms grabbed her neck and began strangling her. The water was clouding into her eyes and lungs, stinging at her. She was drowning, but she wouldn't give in, not now, not yet.

She struggled to break free as her vision was blurring. Her breathing was shortening, but she wouldn't cease to stop. She fought hard against her attacker and remembered everything her adopted father had taught her. He had taught her to fight and protect herself. She must do it now! Her life was at stake. She managed to swing her leg and kick her attacker in a prominent area. Her attacker let go, allowing her to break free and take advantage of the moment. She tried to swim to the surface as fast as her legs would allow her, but she felt her offender grab her arms and try to drag her back, but even underwater, she blinked her eyes a little to see who her offender was, but all there was, was black. She grabbed the offender's hand and with all her might, she gnashed her teeth into the skin, and it let go again, before she powered herself to the surface as if she were a mermaid.

Air! She gasped as her head broke the surface of the water and she inhaled many deep breaths. She found the hard shore and pulled herself up from out of the waters and back onto the ground, where she found herself exhausted. Whoever had attacked her was surely heading in her way, so she prepared herself, but in truth she was ready to fall over, her energy was nearly drained from little sleep and her fight.

When her attacker didn't show for a few moments, Alethea didn't hesitate to fall over. Everything was wet, from her hair to her toes. And she was so tired, her vision was seemed so blurry. She wasn't sure if she still had some water in her eyes or if it were because she were so tired. The chain of her locket was like ice piercing at her skin. The weight of the water on her seemed to drag her to the hard ground.

Everything seemed to fade to black before she realized it.

There was music, different music, it wasn't hard or somber like the other music she had heard. This was softer, yet more mournful and sorrowful, but more beautiful too. A deep sadness that seemed to call out as a yearning. It was singing to her, but it was so far away.

Her vision was clearing and she became more aware of her surroundings. Alethea found herself lying on a plush bed with red satin sheets and blankets. Her head laid upon a soft pillow. But what was different, was that she saw a dark curtain surrounding the bed. What was also peculiar was that the bed was shaped like a swan. But was immediately worried her more was, where was she?

Her body was still damp, but not soaking wet and she prayed she would catch a cold the next day. Her body felt so sore and useless. She slowly sat up, her body getting used to standing back up again. But her legs were still sore. She yawned and tried to pull the curtain away for find her surroundings. The curtain automatically rolled up into the ceiling.

What Alethea saw seemed to be like a haven for her. It was beautiful, with candles everywhere. Beyond that, she could make out a glistening black lake with a beautifully black gondola embed with gold carvings upon the shore. She tried to stand, but her legs were still not use to it. She grabbed the bed for support, and the blood rushed back into her legs, giving her the ability to walk. She moved closer to the candles and the lake, her eyes drinking in the magnificent sight.

The music still sang to her, it's melody working its magic on her. She turned to face the source of the music where she spotted steps and many more candles. Music sheets and artwork and then beyond the music sheets and candles she saw a man clothed in black, seated on a piano bench, playing away on a black organ with music sheets and manuscripts scattered everywhere. She didn't move, just stood there, listening to the beautiful harmony. He also seemed to be playing unconsciously, as if his natural born talents was to play his organ.

But the music ended abruptly, startling her from her trance-like world where she had nothing to worry about. She became aware of her environment now and realized she still didn't know where she was. She gasped, and the figure clothed in black turned around to face her.

It was Erik!

**Hey guys! I managed to update this story. As I said, I'm sorry for the long wait, but I will be busy in August, especially since I start school up again in less than a month. Thank you my loyal readers and reviewers. I don't know how I would be able to do this without you guys. Please hang in there and I will try to update again before the month is over. **


	17. The Lair

Chapter 16

The Lair

"Good evening, Alethea, I trust you slept well," he greeted facing her with yet the most utter kindness. "Are you hurt?" His face directed away from her and he distracted his vision by staring at the glistening lake instead.

Immediately, Alethea realized the truth. "You.....you were the one who attacked and dragged me into the water!" She stated it more like an accusation rather than a question for she convinced herself that it must have been the truth.

Erik sighed in painfully and stood up, he began to advance towards her, with the appearance of death stalking the night. Why was it that in this lighting, he seemed more terrifying? Alethea slowly recoiled away from him, watching her steps, so she wouldn't happen to fall into a lit candle or the lake. Now she was really frustrated with herself for not bringing her sword or changing her attire. All she would have were her combats, but she wasn't sure how much they would help her, when she wasn't familiar with these surroundings. After all this was the phantom's underworld where anything the phantom wanted, he could will.

He held out his hand, as if to help her. "Please Alethea, you must expect me to have to keep protection of my home. Even with most the secret passages that use to exist here are gone, I must take precaution. Yes, I did attack you, but that was before I realized that it had been you in my trap. You put up quite a good fight, I might say, but I should have realized that the first time we met."

Alethea stopped shrinking away from him. He still held out his hand as if to help her and she hesitatingly took his hand. "Thanks, for at least.....saving me?" She wasn't sure of what the right term was, for him bringing her here to his lair. She could only call it rescuing. He slowly led her down the few steps from the little chamber where she slept, probably being cautious in case her sight was fully restored yet.

"Well, I did tell you that one day, I would bring you down to my lair to see it, don't you think it beautiful?" he seemed to glorify his lair as well as he took his eyes away from Alethea and gazed as if in wonder of his own home.

It truly was beautiful, Alethea could have doubted that she would ever see something so beautiful, but it was more enchanting than she could possibly dream. The candlelights really were perfect for this atmosphere and the red curtains seemed to be a compliment to the lighting. But then, Alethea turned around and found herself facing a wall covered in pieces of art. Drawings, painting and sketches, however, what was peculiar about these works of art were that every piece was a drawing of the exact same woman. The same face, the same pale hair and curly chocolate brown curls.

"Who is she?" Alethea asked walking up to the art-covered wall. But as she reached out to touch one of the drawings, Erik immediately seized her hand.

"Please don't touch those," he pleaded, his eyes closed, as if in pain. "That is the very woman who was talked about the in the newspapers, tales involving me have been told about her as well."

The answer collided into Alethea like the wind was knocked from her. "That's....that's Christine Daae, isn't it?"

She turned to her teacher, who nodded, before turning away from her again. She could tell he was in pain and she regretted making him remember such things that had upset him. "I'm sorry," she apologized, following behind in his steps.

"Please, you should feel no need to be sorry, but I am still very sensitive about such things as that, the past isn't the best subject for me to discuss about, so please forget about it," he stated, blunt and emotionless as possible, hiding what he thought seemed to be his vulnerability.

Alethea nodded and decided it was best as well to forget it. She tried to distract herself by look around the lair, trying to touch on a new subject. She was perplexed as only maybe a few feet away from the shore in the lake, she saw an iron-clad gate covered by a red curtain.

"Is...is that how we got here?" Alethea lifted her hand, pointing slowly at the gate.

She turned to see Erik nod, regretfully. "Protection wise, that's it. Oh, I have something for you that I believe you treasure." Alethea watched as Erik seemed to pull out something from the pocket of his jacket, something that shimmered in the light. It was at first obscured by his hand, but then he revealed to her what it was.

A small oval object dangling on a silver chain caught her attentions. Erik dangled the silver chain on his fingers as if trying to display what he was trying to return to her. Alethea's hands immediately flew to her neck. It was bare. The trace of her silver chain was missing.

It was her locket, dangling from Erik's hand.

"Give me that!" she hissed and slapped it out of Erik's hand. Within less than a second she re-clasped the locket back around her neck. "Don't you ever take that from me again!"

Erik was startled by her behavior, he still managed to remain composed, but he didn't expect a reaction like this over a locket. Yes, the silver carvings and forgings must have made it extremely valuable in money, but he could sense it must have been something else that could have sparked this reaction in Alethea.

She sighed in frustration turning away from Erik and seemed to advance a few steps away from him. "I'm sorry for my reaction, Erik, I am. But this locket is more valuable to me than I think you'll ever understand. It has sentimental value and even greater value."

"Was it your mother's locket or someone very important to you?" he dared to ask, hoping it wouldn't set off another unexpected reaction from her.

Silence enveloped the lair and he looked at Alethea, whose back was to him. She seemed to relax and sigh in deep thought, lost in her mind. She fiddled with the locket in her fingers, before returning her attention him.

"That's the thing, I don't know whose locket this is, I was found wearing it," she stated, pulling out her own childhood memories, forgetting who she was talking to. But she didn't care either way as Erik was willing to expose his childhood nightmares to her, so it wouldn't have bothered her in any way to speak of her own past.

Erik hesitatingly stepped forward toward her. "What do you mean you were found wearing it?"

"It's not easy for me to speak of, but I guess I can at least relent it to you," she responded, her pale, slender fingers still fumbling with the silver locket. "You see, the truth is, I don't know where I come from. I was found by my adopted parents when I was five wandering the countryside, no memory, no trace of anything......but.....this locket. They took me in and raised me like their own, but I always kept wondering where I had come from. This locket is the only trace I have to my own past. That's why this locket is so important to me."

"Well, I'm sorry, but may I ask, why you felt you could relent that to me? After all you and I don't really know each other, other than as teacher and pupil," he observed reminding her of their relationship with each other. But he couldn't help but be intrigued by this girl. She seemed so brave, bold and head-strong, yet deep down, she was hiding her own painful past. Almost like him. He was the phantom of the opera, the terror of the people, but he himself had his own nightmares. Just like Alethea, whose brave demeanor hid a tragic past as well.

Nearly, biting her tongue by the suddenness of the question, Alethea found herself speechless, and yet the answer had already been there. She just couldn't manifest it into words. A lump in her throat prevented her from swallowing, but she managed to find her words after she saw that look in Erik's eyes. A look of care and concern.

"I felt I could reveal something as personal as this to you because you could tell me your own past. And compared to your past, mine doesn't seem as tragic as your own," she answered, looking away from him, fearing to look at his face, despite the fact she didn't expect to see anything harmful to her own self from him.

She felt his cold hand touch her shoulder and then all fear evaporated. Alethea turned to him and saw that he meant no harm or anger. She almost felt a tear form in her eyes, "I know you want no pity or sympathy, but that's they way, I can only think. I'm sorry if that adds discomfort to you, but that's the way I see things."

"I took the locket from you, because I afraid you might strangle yourself while you slept from the chain, but I shall not remove it from you again," Erik seemed to drift away from her apology as if in fear of confronting the topic.

Alethea gently placed a hand on his arm. "Thank you for being concerned for me. However next time, you remove my locket, at least place it somewhere close to me or somewhere where I may find it."

He nodded kindly. "I will."

"Um...what time is it?" Alethea asked, just remember she had no idea what time it could be. After all, what if she were suppose to be awake and with the company at the moment or should she still be sleeping in her dorm room.

Erik sensed her panic and couldn't help but chuckle at her worry. "Have no fear, Alethea, tis is only the hour of 3 in the morning. Perhaps you should rest."

"No, thank you," Alethea responded, removing her hand from him and staring off into the directions of everywhere the lair had to offer to explore. "I'd rather see your home. It's beautiful. Is there more?"

"Well, I hope to create more additions to this lair in due time," he took her hand and led her through the lair. "It's been this way almost ever since the day I was brought here by Mme. Giry. I think it would be too discomforting for me to change it."

A smile slowly drew across Alethea's face. She knew it was hard to accept change, but there were some changes that would due him some good. "You know, by changing this place, you would be able to expand your own creativity. Maybe, change would allow you to accept your own past."

Immediately, his hand slithered away from hers and she looked up to see his eyes burning with rage and anger. Misunderstanding as well. "You dare to tell me to accept my past!" he raged turning on her and almost rising above her, which intimidated Alethea and she slowly recoiled from him as he advanced on her threateningly. "How can you ever dare to think that it should be so easy to accept such things like this! Who, such as the insignificant you, have the right to tell me what to do? How do you expect to move on with...with....with....this!" he tore his mask from his face, revealing his grotesque deformity to her once again. Alethea had seen his deformity before, but in this lighting, she truly saw the horror of it. And yet, she still possessed no fear. Perhaps it was because she had seen it before, or because of the pity and compassion she felt for him. There was no answer, but she stopped recoiling and only looked on at Erik, fearless, with concern.

Suddenly, Erik, instead of attacking her, seemed to burst into sobs and crept away from her, hiding his deformity with his hand, his mask in the other hand. Alethea didn't dare move from her spot, but she observed from her position his actions, hoping to find some resolve from him.

"What do you want from me, Alethea?" he cried, his face still buried in his one hand.

With a calm demeanor, Alethea slowly strolled to where he stood. She placed a hand on his shoulder, to which he finally turned to face her. His hand obscuring his deformity. Alethea gently removed his hand so she could look him clear in the face.

Suddenly before either of them could realize anything, Erik felt Alethea's gentle lips press against his.

A kiss neither of them saw coming.

******Hey guys, I'm happy that I was able to update this. Sorry if that kiss seemed so sudden, but I thought it would be a good ending to the chapter at the moment. Also I was afraid that I was dragging this story on for too long and boring my readers. Hang in there and I will try to update again soon. Please read and review. **


	18. After the Kiss

Chapter 17

After the Kiss

Their lips parted and Alethea slowly backed away from him, overcome by shock at what she had just done. Erik also found himself speechless and shocked. He hadn't been kissed like that in three years. And the last he had ever been kissed like that was from.......Christine.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," Alethea found herself short of words and she turned away from Erik, unable to face him after what she had just done.

Erik readjusted his mask back on his face, unable to find his own breath. "Was that suppose to have been out of pity, Alethea? May I remind you that you and I are only teacher and student? What were you thinking?"

"Is that the only thing you can say?" Alethea was aghast at his reaction to what had just happened. "I'm sorry, maybe it was out of pity. I don't know, but in that one moment, I-I-I.....felt compelled to kiss you. I don't know if it was pity, or compassion or by impulse."

"Impulse?" Erik became outraged at her statement. "You felt an _impulse_ to kiss me? Why? Do you feel that you will never kiss another man in your life? So you think you have to settle for kissing me? A monster? That is the greatest insult to my pride that I think you will harm."

Alethea snapped her head to him, raged at his declaration. "I meant no harm to your pride. Maybe I did kiss you out of pity. But you know, maybe it shouldn't matter. Maybe we should forget that I-I..I..."

"That you kissed me!" Erik grabbed her arm and forced her to look him in the eyes, behind his mask. "What kind of vile woman are you?"

"What kind of man are you?" she shouted forcing herself to turn away from him. She felt real tears brimming on the edge of her eyes. And she was afraid for herself, what did it mean that she had just kissed him like that? And even though, it did perplex her why she had just kissed him, she did know, for a true fact, that it wasn't out of pity. It was something much more, but she couldn't confront it. And maybe there was somewhere deep down inside her, that was trying to say that she felt something more for him. Ever since that first night she met him, she always knew that there was maybe some kind of feeling for him. She wasn't sure of its true existence, but after what had happened, she knew, now, what it was.

Erik groaned under his breath. His conscience hadn't spoken to him in years, not when he had killed, not when he would torture people with his existence, but yet, his conscience spoke to him now. He found it nearly puzzling that he could feel guilt now, over just what he said to Alethea. Perhaps it was because of her kiss, but maybe it was more.

Not even Erik could deny that he might have feelings that were more than mutual or platonic for her. Ever since that night, he first met her and ever since he heard her sing, he saw something more about her. She possessed a strong spirit that seemed to be ahead of her time. Alethea was far different from Christine. She couldn't be manipulate, she's couldn't be fooled like Christine had once been. Perhaps, that's why he admired her in a way. Perhaps that was another reason he took her as his next pupil.

"Alethea," his voice was muffled and he coughed under his breath. "I............I˗--"

"What?" she cried, her hands clenching into fists. "Are you going to accuse me of kissing a monster again? Why do you see yourself as a monster in this world? Why can't you see that you are just as human as any of us?"

Her choice of words weren't as wise as she could have chosen. Erik's eyes smoldered like his irises were about to turn to ash, spontaneously. "You wonder why I call myself a monster?" he demanded advancing on her yet again, to which Alethea cautiously stepped away, not trying to set any other threatening reactions from him. "You've seen my face! You've seen _my_ face!" he screamed, knocking over a candelabra, but luckily it collapsed into the lake. "Do you think it is possible to call myself a human being when I look like this! What other human have you seen in your insignificant lifetime that bore such a horrid resemblance to me? Why Alethea? Why?"

Yet again, Erik felt tears surface to his eyes. He couldn't bear to have Alethea see him this vulnerable. He couldn't bear to seem like an average man, when he was the terrifying, bone-chilling phantom of the opera. He turned away from her again, allowing his tears to fall, but his sobs to scream. It wasn't of his will, but by his own emotions controlling his body and will.

And then he realized what he was feeling. Something that he hadn't felt in years.

Heartbreak.

He could recall the pain that had surged through his heart like a knife when he saw Christine kiss that...that....boy. How raged his had been, how alone and abandoned he felt. It was like lightening had struck him a thousand time with the force of hell. There was nothing compared to that pain, nothing he had ever felt in his miserable lifetime. And he hated having to endure such a feeling again.

Alethea slowly and hesitatingly approached him slowly again. This was like the moment seconds ago, when she had only just kissed him. Now was not the time to be repeating events. But before, she could touch his shoulder, he whipped around and grabbed her by her shoulders.

"Ever since that night, when we met," he cried staring at her violet irises, "you've been on my mind and in my thoughts. What was it about you? Why in hell did you haunt my mind and my dreams? How dare you call me back from grave? Who are you to make such a mockery of me? I love you, Alethea, I've been in love with you. I just refused to confess and confront it to myself till now. Till you were willing to kiss me. Who are you to make me so vulnerable?"

Alethea wasn't sure if the lair around her was spinning or if she was about to faint. But she swore that everything Erik just said, must have been just a dream.

"Erik, please," she cried, getting a grip on reality. "You must be tired or confused. You don't love me, you just want to think you love me." But she realized perhaps, now she found herself being in denial. Everything that had occurred that night was too much.

Erik grabbed her shoulders and pressed a kiss into her lips, one as deep and as beautiful as the kiss Alethea had bestowed upon him. Everything seemed to stop and Alethea found her eyes fluttering shut. And there was no longer that barrier of denial or duty.

She was in love with him as well. Even though everything seemed so sudden, it was only the truth. But would this feeling last forever? Even Alethea didn't miss questioning that. Would she feel the same way about him the next day, the next week, the next month? She had never been in love before, but this feeling right now was strong enough to knock the wind from her body. She did wonder if this was truly love.

Their lips separated as if in a dream. There seemed to be a daze and Alethea was sure she must have been in some illusion or mirage. When reality returned, she saw that Erik was still there in front of her. His eyes, pleading and loving, like he would do anything for her. Despite the grotesque half of his face, Alethea saw nothing. She only saw Erik. Perhaps, it was true love.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, releasing her, but he didn't fail to brush a strand of her copper-brown hair from her face.

Tears brimmed on the edge of her violet eyes in happiness. "Yes," she cried, a tear escaping and trailing down her cheek, which Erik gently whipped away with his finger.

All of a sudden, a clock struck, signaling the hour, which startled Alethea and she was nearly ready to fall into the lake if Erik hadn't caught her.

"What is that?" she caught her breath after that shock.

Erik hadn't realized it either, but his eyes widened in shock and he immediately seized Alethea's arm and dragged her into the gondola. That damn Grandfather Clock he had in his lair; especially now when he was experiencing such a strange and yet wonderful emotion he had yet to experience in ages. Why did it have to end now? Quickly donning his cape and making himself presentable as the infamous phantom, he leapt onto the gondola and rowed with all his might our of the lair, with Alethea puzzled and shocked about the suddenness of the situation.

"Erik! Dammit Erik! Tell me what's wrong!" she demanded trying to grab him, but he managed to keep her seated. She huffed and remained seated, waiting to see what was going to happen, her arms crossed like the stubborn young woman she was.

When they reached the other side to the shore, Erik jumped out and dragged Alethea out of the gondola.

"It's nearly eight o'clock in the morning!" he finally answered her question, but in panic. "Ugh! How could I have been too careless to not have checked the time? We must get you back upstairs before they can realize you're not there!"

Alethea tried to resist his pull, but he was too strong right now for her to stop him. "Erik, it's still early, Meg won't know I'm gone for another few hours! I can't believe that much time passed so quickly. And stop lugging me around like I'm a piece of baggage, I _can_ walk, you know!" Alethea hated being pushed around like this as if she couldn't do anything.

But Erik didn't bother to listen as they ascended the many staircase that Alethea could recognize descending the previous night, but she hadn't imagined there were so many stairs last night. By the time they had reached the last step at the top of the stairs, Alethea wanted to deny it, but she couldn't hide the fact that even she was short of breath from all the climbing. Erik, on the other hand looked as cool and as relaxed as possible.

At the end of what seemed to be the never-ending tunnel, Alethea saw it. The pane of glass in which she could look into the dressing room. This was how she first came into the lair in the first place and this was how she would be exiting the phantom's underworld as well.

"You should be familiar with this mirror, I have a theory that this is how you must have entered my home in the first place," Erik displayed the mirror and looked back to Alethea who nodded lightly. He opened the door and allowed her to pass around him.

But before Alethea finally stepped out, she turned around to look at Erik. His compassionate eyes and gentle nature, far beyond what the opera house had made of him. She still couldn't truly believe that this is love. It was odd, puzzling, but warm and welcoming.

She pressed her lips one last time to his as if in a waltz of mystery and love. "Good morning," she giggled under her breath and a sweet innocent smile drew across her pale, heart-shaped face.

Erik, took her hand and she could feel his warmth through his leather gloves. He pressed a hard but gentle kiss on every delicate knuckle. "I love you."

"I love you too," her cheeks were turning red as she blushed, which was obvious to Erik. But he knew that she must go as they were wasting time. Alethea could clearly see this and she stepped out of the mirror.

The glass pane slid shut, separating the both of them. However, as Alethea pressed her finger tips on the glass, she knew that Erik was still on the other side, watching her. And she could feel the warmth of his finger tips on the other side of the glass, before she forced herself to pull away and exit the dressing room. **  
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******Well, there's another chapter guys. Again, I'm sorry that this is taking so long to update, but I am making a goal to at least finish this story before the 2010 year rings in. Till then, please bear with me and continue reading. I know a lot of you guys are usually Erik and Christine fans, but please still give this story a chance. ^_^ **


	19. Stolen

Chapter 18

Stolen

It was beautiful weather that day in Paris. And rehearsals had ended early for the day so as to not over stress the actors and the singers. Mme. Giry decided to be lenient as well and allowed her little ballet rats (Meg included) to take a break as well. Even Mme. Giry realized that too much practice would do severe damage to one's feet. Meg breathed in relief and both she and Alethea knew today would be a good day to spend time together, but Alethea also had other plans in mind.

"Come, Meg, let's go out," Alethea insisted, pulling on a pair of her male pants and a puffed sleeved shirt. She fastened her silver locket around her neck and made sure that it would be tucked away safely with her. "It's a wonderful day and you and I haven't stepped a foot off the grounds of the opera house in weeks."

Meg wasn't sure how to answer to that. She pondered on the thought of being free of the opera and of any ballet duties, but she wasn't sure if it would be such a good idea. "I don't know, Alethea. Ma would most likely scold me for stepping out, especially when I have no escort."

Alethea presented herself to Meg, in her full male attire. "Why do you think I changed my clothes Meg? Come, you can't wander around Paris in a ballet tutu," Alethea spoke, tossing Meg a pair of pants and a white shirt.

Meg stared at the clothes Alethea had just tossed her and she pondered on the prospects. All her life, she was trapped in a ballet studio, suffocating almost and not even knowing what the outside world possessed. "All right," Meg answered and she began changing. "However, I, myself have a pair of boots that I think are nearly like yours." And true to her word, Meg pulled out a pair of knee-high black boots from under her bed, a near perfect match to Alethea's boots. The two were almost in a near perfect match of outfits.

"You and I can pass off as brothers," stated Alethea, standing side by side with Meg. "Not twin brothers, but brothers."

The two guffawed in harmony, as they both tied their hair up and hid it under hats.

* * *

The sweet spring air welcomed Alethea and Meg as they had managed to sneak out of the opera, passing off as stagehands taking a break; they even managed to surpass Mme. Giry without even a suspicion.

All around them, Parisians were walking about on the streets. Shops opened with such a friendly people everywhere. Alethea could smell the sweet bread baking or the flowers being watered. The noises and images of Paris surrounded Meg and Alethea. Entertainers juggling or dancing to amuse the crowds. Husbands and wives in fine clothing walking with their children. Women selling flowers in baskets or music sheets.

To Meg, she felt lost in wonderland and she was about ready to begin prancing and twirling in the street in joy. "Oh, Alethea, I've seen Paris outside our window so many times, heard of it, but never have I actually been able to experience it. All my life, it's just been ballet and dance. And my ma saying 'Meg, you must turn out more', 'Meg, you must practice, practice, if you ever want to be prima'."

The two girls laughed, losing themselves in the crowd of Parisians, exploring the beauty of it.

However their joyous time was interrupted when a gun shot was heard, making the crowds disperse and hide. Police were spotted chasing a man, who had a thick mustache decorating his face, and carrying what appeared to be a sack.

Alethea grabbed Meg's arm and dragged her to an alley, where they would be away from the trouble. Alethea wished she could help, but she didn't know what weapons or guns anyone was carrying. She and Meg tucked themselves into the alley, but it might not have been such a good idea when the crook or whoever the police were chasing managed to make a sudden stop at the corner of the opening to the alley. He dug through his sack before he realized that two other people were there, in the alley behind him. He stared at the two for a second, before he saw a silver locket dangling on the neck of one of the boys. With a quick and conniving hand, probably how he must have stolen something in the first place, he snatched the locket right off the neck of the boy, before taking off.

Alethea thought time must have frozen for half a second, before she realized that the criminal just stole her locket. Before Meg could even make a sound, Alethea took off after the crook, chasing him and running faster than a hawk coming in for a kill. She chased after him, and it didn't take long for the crook to realize it.

Her hat flew off her head as she ran after the man, looking behind, but only to be disappointed that she didn't see the police anywhere in sight. Luckily she had braided her hair today so it would be in her face as she chased her offender. However, she found a distraction ahead of her when the thief began throwing items from his sack in an attempt to hold her off. However she wondered if he even stole anything as he was throwing some worthless items at her, like a canteen, a book with its bind broken. She managed to dodge all of these objects, without even a losing a breath even though she had been running for what seemed like forever.

Finally when she was only a foot away, she leaped and pounced, like a lion coming in for the kill, heading for the crook. And as sure as her aim was, she tackled the guy who collapsed to the ground with a giant thud, his sack falling a few feet away from the two. The crook grunted and attempted to throw Alethea off of him. She got off of him, but not without the thief giving up without a fight. He jumped up as well, but before he even had the chance to touch her, she smacked him in the face as hard as she could with a huge _whack _following, and kicked him where it would hurt a man most. The force which was enough to knock the man to the ground, groaning in pain.

But being a crook, the man with the thick mustache decided not to give up just yet; he managed to reach for something small that had fallen out of the bag, but before Alethea could execute any action, he tossed the small thing at her.

_Smash!_ The tiny hand-held mirror shattered on her cheek. Alethea howled in pain as some tiny shards split into her skin. She felt the area where she had been splintered and when she looked at her fingers, tiny little beads of blood were on the tips.

The crook was chortling like a maniac at his luck, but he wasted his time as he was still groveling on the ground and Alethea didn't miss smacking him in the face with her boot, paralyzing him as he passed out. She knew she hadn't killed him, not where she had kicked him, but she knew he would be unconscious for a time.

Right at that moment, the police had arrived on the scene.

"Oh, looks like this man," however the police man took a second at Alethea, realizing her true gender. "Oh, I should say, looks like this young woman took care of our criminal. Thank you."

"No problem, I'm just glad I could help," Alethea answered, walking over to the sack that the crook had dropped. She ransacked it, before she pulled out her silver locket. "This is mine, he took if from me, hence why I chased after him. He's just passed out." She re-clasped her locket back around her neck, the clasp still in tact.

Meg came running onto the scene as well. "Alethea!" she cried before she came upon everyone. She immediately noticed Alethea and didn't fail to miss seeing little drops and beads of blood forming on her cheek. "Alethea! Mother of God are you all right?"

The police hadn't failed to notice either. "Oh, you should see a doctor about that. How did he do that to you?"

"He threw a little hand-held mirror at my face, that's all," Alethea answered, careful as she had little splinters of mirror on her skin.

Meg, grabbed her hand. "Oh, well we should get you to my mother, she can take care of that."

The policed thanked Alethea one last time, before Meg began dragging Alethea away from the scene.

"I knew we shouldn't have gone out of the opera house," Meg whispered as they walked back, with Alethea trying to stop the bleeding.

* * *

"How could you two have been so irresponsible?" Mme. Giry scolded Meg and Alethea and she used little tweezers to pick out the little glass shards from her face. Alethea winced in slight pain, but the sooner the better as she wouldn't be in pain for that much longer. Mme. Giry cleaned her wounds, she had seven little cuts on her cheek, all cleaned so they wouldn't get infected. Meg stood at the corner, looking at the ground, afraid to face her mother. Mme. Giry taped some tiny bandages over Alethea's cuts, before she finished.

"You two sneaking out of the opera and chasing after a criminal!" Mme. Giry began scolding again, yelling with the full intensity that a mother possessed. "You two could have gotten yourselves killed! What in hell were you two thinking?"

Surprisingly Meg spoke up. "Ma, the police were chasing a criminal. If it weren't for Alethea, they might not have caught him."

"He took my locket too," Alethea answered bluntly, fumbling with her locket, caressing it like a delicate jewel. "Mme. Giry, I'm sorry for being irresponsible, but I couldn't let him take this locket away from me. It holds such sentimental value to me. It was my idea to get out of the opera house. I thought it would be good for Meg."

"Good for Meg?" Mme. Giry looked like she were overcome with a heart attack. Mme. Giry's eyes were on fire in rage. "Alethea, I know you've only been here a few weeks, but I think I would know Meg better than you would."

Meg stepped up, speaking her mind. "Ma, I've been dancing all my life, but until today, I didn't know what was in Paris other than what I know now. Please don't trap me in a cage forever."

And for the first time Meg ever saw this, Mme. Giry looked shocked. She had never heard her daughter speak like this. All her life, raising Meg, Mme. Giry thought all Meg wanted to do was just simply dance ballet, but this time it seemed different.

Alethea could tell that maybe they needed time to talk as mother and daughter and so, she quietly excused herself and left the room. She decided to go to her dorm room to change before anyone else saw her and started asking questions. She was just careful to watch out for her bandages.

* * *

******Well there's another update. Hope you guys enjoy. And if I have grammar mistakes, feel free to tell me, but don't shoot flames at me about it. My writing's not perfect, but with practice, it does get better. Well, let's hope I can update again soon. **


	20. Compensating News

Chapter 19

Compensating News

Luckily, Alethea made it to her room without anyone noticing her in her other clothing. She knew that she wouldn't be able to hide her injuries forever and that people would ask questions about that. Well, Alethea knew she would be able to find a different reason for that, other than she had caught a criminal being chased by the police.

Alethea changed into a plain brown gown in the empire waist style. She kept her black boots on as she found it more comfortable for her to walk in those than in slippers or flat shoes. She untied her hair from its restrictive braid and let her hair flow around her face. She knew that her hair wouldn't be able to hide her injuries. But she wouldn't mind, she could just simply say she had accidentally scraped her face while she was combing her hair.

Feeling secluded in her dorm, Alethea decided to head to one of the private music rooms where she could play the piano in peace and not feel so alone. The music room was nearly the size of a ballroom, but it didn't seem like there was much space due to all the instruments and music equipment. A bay window stood on the side letting in the late afternoon light. This room was peaceful, which was one of the reasons, Alethea loved to be in here.

Taking a seat at the piano, she played one specific tune that seemed better for a somber morning. _'Moonlight Sonata'_ by Beethoven. She loved that peace and its beauty. And even though it seemed better for a somber mood, it was more beautiful listening when the sun was beginning to fall on the horizon. Beethoven had been a pure genius. Deaf and yet he had composed some of the most beautiful music in the world.

"What happened to you?" a ghostly, yet familiar voice echoed throughout the room.

Alethea smiled, realizing who it was. "I'm just playing my piano, is all," she responded but she did know that what Erik meant, was her injury.

"Alethea, I want to know what happened to your face." he requested, sounding as calm and as friendly as his emotions would allow him.

Even though Alethea could have told him that she had scraped herself with a comb, she knew that Erik would have been too smart to fall for that. Rather than making up another lie, she instead decided to tell him the truth.

"Meg and I had left the opera house today," she began, recalling her little adventure that day out in the square. "And the police had been chasing a man, a thief, I would think. Well, he stole my locket and I couldn't let him get away with that. I chased him down a few streets before I caught him. I knocked him to the ground but he grabbed a little mirror.......and he threw it at me. The rest, I think you can figure that out for yourself."

She swore she heard a low growl, but she excused it, and continued playing from where she left off. Erik had been silent a few moments, making Alethea worried. But she knew that if it were Erik, he must have been all right.

"The man should pay," Erik growled like he was sitting right next to her. "Did the police catch him then?"

"Oh yes, they did," Alethea responded as blunt as possible. "He's probably sitting in a prison cell right now. But I don't care as long as he was caught and I have my locket back. You know how important my locket is to me."

"Yes, I do know," he answered, "and I think you should be heading down to the meet the managers. From what I hear I think they have some news for you."

Alethea looked up at the ceiling, as if she could find Erik there, perplexed. "How do you know the managers would like to meet me for something?"

A ghostly chuckle wailed throughout the room. "Did you forget that I am the phantom and that I know everything and see everything when it happens?"

Alethea nodded and stood up. "Well then, it seems I should go down there to meet them." And with that, she left the room, but she knew that Erik did not leave her.

* * *

Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin looked delighted when they saw Alethea coming to the stage.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Lanquerx, just the young lady we were looking for," Andre had a big smile drawn on his face when he saw her, but he also wasn't blind and oblivious to her face. "My dear child, what has happened?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about Monsieur," Alethea smiled gently as if nothing were wrong. "I just simply scraped my cheek by accident today when I had combed my hair. But otherwise, I heard you had news to tell me." She knew that the managers would be gullible enough to believe her story as they didn't know her and they didn't know what she and Meg had done today.

Firmin nodded, just remembering that they had news for her. "Oh, Ms. Lanquerx, we had heard from a little bird that you had a stunning voice. And we ask that of you now, because our dear Edith has gone ill and she doesn't think she will recover in enough time to play Rusalka. And Andre and I have been pulling our hair out over who would be our understudy. Word had gone out that you have an amazing voice. Could you please let us hear it?"

At the immediate mention that Edith had gone ill, Alethea automatically knew that Erik must have done something more than eavesdrop around the opera. Yes, Alethea had heard what had happened to La Carlotta before, and for sure without a doubt he must have done the exact same thing to Edith. She returned her attentions to the managers, not wanting them to think she was ignoring them.

"All right, I shall sing for you," she answered, however her eyes were slightly rising up to the rafters to see if Erik was there. "Is there anything you would like me to sing in particular or should I just sing?"

Jolly old Firmin laughed like he were a grandfather. "Oh, please, dear child, sing for us what you would like to sing."

Alethea cleared her throat, but she also warmed up her voice first. That was always, absolutely always, the first thing she needed to do before ever singing or playing the piano. From the bottom of her heart, she found the perfect song to be singing for the managers and for the the company who had also arrived on the scene to watch.

_Ave Maria  
Gratia plena  
Maria, gratia plena  
Maria, gratia plena  
Ave, ave dominus  
Dominus tecum  
Benedicta tu in mulieribus  
Et benedictus  
Et benedictus fructus ventris  
Ventris tuae, Jesus  
Ave Maria, gratia plena _

Even though it was a short song, it was more than powerful than any other song she had ever sung. And without a doubt, she had blown the managers and the company away with her voice.

"Splendid!" Andre cried, clapping along with half the company. "Absolutely splendid! Don't you think Monsieur Firmin?"

"How could I not?" laughed Firmin clapping as well. "Ms. Lanquerx, would you please do us the honor of being Rusalka for us. I know you still have time to learn all the songs and music, so would you please do us the honor of playing her?"

Despite the fact that Alethea was nearly disgusted by her theory of how she got this role, she, nevertheless accepted gladly, but she immediately excused herself as she had somewhere to go so she may speak to a certain someone. Alethea did love to sing and play her piano, but she hated sabotage and no doubt that Erik must have done something to Edith that made her ill and the role of Rusalka opened to her.

Alethea rushed into the dressing room where she had her private music lessons and locked the door so as no one else could come in here. Just like before, she walked to full length mirror and slid it open as easily as she had done before.

With a quick breath, she took off down into the dark corridor with the candles as her only light.

* * *

******Well, 2 updates in 2 days. That's the fastest I've ever updated. Well, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. As I said, I'm sorry if I'm making the story drag on and I will try to make it more interesting. Till then, see you all later. ^_^**


	21. Please Don't Make Me Another Christine

Chapter 20

Please Don't Make Me Another Christine

The corridors were cold that night as Alethea wandered down the tunnels to the lair where Erik must have been. There could be no words to describe the rage firing in Alethea. It wasn't for sure that Edith's sudden illness was the cause of Erik, but Alethea's instincts proved strongly. The skirt of her brown empire waistline gown swished around her as her footsteps thudded on the stone tiling, while her hair flowed around her shoulders, free as a bird's wing.

Water lapping over each other reached her ears, signaling that she was close to the lake. It was just how would she be able to reach the other side to where Erik was? However she didn't have long to think before she found herself at the shore of the lake. She could recall how Erik had attacked her and had nearly dragged her to a watery grave the previous night. With luck, it wouldn't happen this time.

_'How can I get to the other side?'_ the question was like a bee buzzing desperately in her head. She was a smart woman, she would figure it out, but the more she continued to think and ponder, the more frustrated she got.

But then, as if a fire sparked in her soul, Alethea realized the answer. Erik had built these tunnels, specifically so he could hear everything that would occur if anyone should venture down to the lair. Perhaps, since she was at the lake, he would be able to hear her within reach. It was a chance, but a slim one as well.

"Erik! Erik! ERIK!" Alethea hollered as loud as her voice would empower her to. She howled his name again from the depths of her vocal cords. She took a break, realizing that it would take him a while to reach her from the other side. Without hesitating, she took a seat on the stone bay where the boat would dock when it would reach her.

Within minutes, the sound of water parted as the gondola sliced through the water, heading toward Alethea, who had busied herself in thought at what she would say to Erik when the time came. Her daydreaming ended as Erik docked at the bay and leapt out.

"Alethea," he extended a gentle hand out to her, helping her off the cold stone ground. "You're here exceptionally early. Is everything all right?"

Alethea paused before taking his hand. She lifted herself up with Erik's help. "Erik, there is something I need to speak to you about. And it's urgent." Even Alethea was surprised at how serious and low her voice tone went as she arched her eyes at the man who she suspected had done some wrong doings recently.

"Well, let us talk about it at my home," Erik insisted, making way to let her step into the gondola first.

"No!" the young lady protested, stepping away from him. "I'm perfectly fine with us talking here. Erik, did you have anything to do with Edith suddenly becoming sick? Did you have anything to do with the managers asking me to take the lead as Rusalka? And don't trick me, Erik. I've heard enough about you to know that you are capable of doing such a thing. I'm not a fool."

Erik sighed in pain and he couldn't bear to face her. He turned away, hating that he looked like a coward, but if he continued to look at her, he would only lie to her. "Yes, Alethea, I did. But with good reason. Remember why I became your voice teacher? Remember how I said you would be singing the lead opening night? This is what I meant my dear child."

"Don't call me a child, Erik," Alethea scoffed, turning away from him in aggravation. "I am twenty-years-old may I remind you." Alethea didn't mean to be so offensive about her age, but even she could get so agitated when someone would dare call her child when she was far beyond that point.

She felt Erik's cold leather-gloved hand fall on her shoulder, but she brushed it off and lashed out at him. "Tell me the truth, Erik! What did you do to Edith?"

Erik slowly recoiled away from her and his eyes wandered to the gondola, as if he were about to leap into the boat and abandon Alethea, unanswered. But when he saw the fiery gaze of Alethea's piercing violet eyes, he could tell that she would have been prepared if he should execute such a move. He had no choice, but to swallow his guilt.

"She drinks her cognac every night after rehearsals," he coughed under his breath to just give him one small pause, but he knew she wanted him to continue by the way she glared at him. Her gaze could almost paralyze him like Medusa's stone-piercing eyes. "Cognac will do that pitiful woman nothing. I slipped something into her drink the other night. I swear it shall not kill her, but it will silence her enough to give you your chance on the stage. Alethea---"

"No!" she didn't hesitate from her impulse as she whipped her pale hand across his face.

A burning pain shot through Erik, nearly shocking him like electricity pumping through his every nerve. He felt his mask detach from his face, making a soft thud to the ground as the porcelain white mask hit the ground.

He managed to recover himself, but instead of retaliating against Alethea, he ended up falling to his knees.

Alethea ran over to him. She would have expected him to have slapped her back or something, but not to just fall on his knees as if he were ready to give up. "Erik? Erik? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to slap you like that. Oh, are you all right?" she helped to heave him back up onto his feet. When she looked at his eyes, she saw things that she would have never expected to see in him.

_Helplessness_

_Hopelessness_

His eyes were cloudy and she was afraid he would faint. But he let go of her, telling her that he could stand on his own. Without hesitating, she quickly scurried over to retrieve his mask, which was still in mint condition. She afraid, it could have broken during its collision with the ground.

"Here, Erik," she cried, hoping to spark some kind of answer from him. But instead, he only accepted his mask, back, dull and lifeless.

"Thank you," she heard him say as he readjusted the mask back on.

As if the mask held some special component, Erik returned back to his normal self as he replaced it back over his deformity. It was like the mask was part of his soul, that over the years, he had worn it so much, had grown so accustomed to it that the mask really became a part of his life's essence.

He seized her hands, holding them tight to his chest, but his firm grip was nearly cutting off the blood circulation in her hands.

"Alethea!" he gasped, staring into her starry violet eyes, transfixed as if her eyes held a promising new world in them. "Please....forgive me. I love you and I wanted you to be there, singing. Why do you think I taught you so hard? Your voice must be released into the world. Please don't think I haven't thought of your piano skills, but I think your voice will be your much stronger instrument."

But to Alethea, after he had mentioned her voice, everything else Erik had mentioned seemed to have blanked out of her memory. She thought about how he had praised her voice, bringing her back to the rumors Alethea had once heard.

_Her voice is astonishing! Christine Daae's!_

_She has the voice of an angel!_

_She claims the angel of music gave her that voice!_

"Erik, why were you in love with Christine Daae?" Erik was stunned by her question and he found himself silenced by her simple request.

"W-what?" he stared at her, dumbfounded.

Alethea wasn't looking at him. It had only occurred to her the question of why? Why had he been in love with Christine? Why in all possibility was he in love with her? She tried to remember how long they had known each other. Only a few weeks, possibly a month or two and she realized why she loved him. She loved him because of his mysterious aura, his hidden kindness, his stubbornness and because of who he was. She knew he was a killer, but despite that, she knew he had a good heart. But one question also _donged_ in her head. Why was he in love with Alethea? Really, she only wondered, how much did he even know her?

"Erik? Do you only love me because of my singing voice?" she asked, turning to him, with semi-pain and agony striking at all her emotional cords as the truth of her theory was setting in. "And please tell me the truth Erik. Is that the only reason you were in love with Christine in the first place? Just because of her voice too?"

"I-I-I," Erik found himself stuttering and he forced himself to turn away again as he, himself pondered on the truth of the matter. He could remember how he first encountered Christine as a child, singing for her beloved dead father. And he could recall that at that exact moment, he had fallen in love with her. It was like ever since then, he hadn't cared about anything else about her, other than manifesting that voice and prepping that girl for the stage. Was that all he had really felt for Christine? He really didn't ever give her a chance to get to know him nor did he really know her as well either. These thoughts were imposing the same effects as poison on his soul. But he was forced to face the truth when Alethea forced him to confront.

The kiss. He could remember that kiss Christine had imposed upon him. As he thought further and further into his experiences with the kiss, he realized, it meant nothing, but pity. There had been passion, but all it was, was sympathy passion, passion in the fact that Christine would save Raoul if she would give this deformed man the one thing had dreamed about and had been denied since childhood. That kiss meant nothing.

"Erik, please, tell me, why the hell do you love me? Why?" Alethea pleaded advancing on him, but she was cautious to keep her distance in fear that he might try something on her. "Please don't make me another Christine to you," the words just seemed to flow out of her uncontrollably, but even though those weren't really the words she had wanted him to hear, she didn't apologize or take it back.

All of a sudden, Erik's hands seized hers like serpents winding around her arms. He pulled her so close to him, as if in a sudden kiss. He released one of her hands and used his free hand to cup her chin. Their eyes locked as if both were in a trance.

"How can you think that?" he gasped, with tears glimmering in his eyes. "Alethea, you're more important to me than Christine ever was. And no, Alethea, you possess much more than an angel's voice which keeps me attracted to you. You're bold and brave, a little ahead of your time. You're kind and intelligent. Alethea! You're not like the others here, the dim-wits and superficials. You're here for the soul of it. Alethea I love you because of who you are. You're not a manipulative child, you _are a _grown woman who knows what she wants. You can fight for what you want and you are the most strong-willed person I have admired from afar. No, there is much more to you that I love, deeply and not even if your wonderful voice suddenly disappears shall I ever leave you or stop loving you."

Tears befell Alethea's eyes, the shimmer of the tears illuminating her violet irises. And without hesitation, she pressed her lips into his, locking them into a waltz of love, passion and innocence. They must have remained like that in what seemed to them like forever, but it was only mere seconds.

When they had parted, Erik hugged her to him, wishing to never let her go.

"Nothing can stand between us."

And for that moment, they both could believe that. **

* * *

**

******Hey guys! You don't know how long it took me to write this chapter! Ugh! So busy with school and other commitments, so I'm sorry that I can't update as frequently as I had been at the beginning of September, but I'll try to find as much time as possible to finish this story. Till then, please just hang in there ^_^**


	22. The Return of Christine

Chapter 21

The Return of Christine

"Are you sure you can do this?" Christine felt Raoul squeeze her hand tightly; she could tell that he was nervous about returning to the Opera Populaire. It had been three long years; it even took a while for Christine to accept that she had been away that long. The carriage bumped and rocked along the road. But the trip was only part of it, the other part had been Christine questioning herself.

_What am I going to do?_ She asked herself, squeezing Raoul's hands as well, _What can I do? _And that was the truth of it; she wasn't sure how she would find closure at the opera house. But she prayed to God that her troubles and memories would end here and now.

The carriage halted right at that moment.

They were there.

"Monsieur de Chagny," announced the carriage driver at that moment. "We have arrived to the specific destination you have requested."

Raoul hopped out of the carriage, opening the doors to the newly rebuilt Parisian Opera House. "We're here, Christine," he declared, holding his hand out for her to take as she stepped out of the carriage as well.

Christine could have fainted at that moment. She had never seen the opera house in such a grand splendor, but it wouldn't erase away the memories of the fire that had destroyed this place nearly three years ago. Raoul on the other hand, was just simply admiring it.

"Isn't it lovely, Christine?" he asked, cheerful, which seemed ironic to Christine.

She nodded, "Yes, it is dear. It's probably a good idea that I come out anyway, for after all, it won't be long before I'll be bed-ridden when this child comes."

Raoul laughed lightly next to her and entwined his fingers into her hand. "Come, Christine, let's visit our old friends and acquaintances. After all, that's what we came to do."

Christine nodded yet again, but she was nervous as hell. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what she could do. At that moment, she could have jumped right back into the carriage and would have ordered the carriage driver to take her away from this place as far as possible. But she swallowed her fear and walked with Raoul into the newly restored opera house.

Everywhere in the opera house made her eyes dazzle with wonder and glee. It was more beautiful than she remembered. It was like a paradise, a new opera house and newly baptized. She knew that she would or that she must be able to fine some sort of closure here. And even if it weren't there, she knew that she wouldn't have to be in fear.....at least for now.

"Christine?" Raoul extended his hand out to her and she gently took it, following her husband back into the place, she use to call home.

They quickly found themselves in the wings of the opera, as if it were a sixth sense to Christine's instincts. She laughed, patting her belly, thinking in her head, _Oh, my little one, if only you were here to see the place where your mother grew up. _Her pregnancy was merely edging into a tiny bump, but still manageable to hide. She wanted to keep it a secret at the moment. She was greatly anticipating seeing Meg and Mme. Giry again, who had been her foster mother and sister.

"Christine!" the high peals of laughter struck her ear cords and Christine turned, as the bouncing blond curls of her best friend hop toward her, running away from rehearsals for _Rusalka. _

"Oh, Christine!" Meg embraced her dearest friend who she had not seen in years. To Meg, Christine looked the same as always, with her dark chestnut curls and brown, chocolate eyes. The past three years had done nothing to their images.

"Christine! I've missed you so much!" Meg cried, in absolute delight. "It's been so long, Christine! Why haven't you written or why haven't you come here sooner?" She was beginning to bounce up and down like she use to when she was six and her mother had allowed her first taste of rum.

Christine laughed, but she watched for she didn't want to extract too much action, especially since she was pregnant now.

"Meg, I've missed you more than you think, but with Raoul and his business as a Comte, I have to fulfill my duties as the Comtess," Christine pleaded on behalf of her case, not taking care of the fact that her husband was standing only a mere feet away. "But Meg, I swear, I have never meant to abandon you."

"Oh, Christine," the delighted excitement that only Meg could exert sparkled in her pale blue eyes, yet again. "You must meet my new friend. She's only arrived her a few months ago, of course when this place had only newly opened. You must meet her! She will charm you as much as I have!"

"Well, Meg, don't keep torturing me more, let me meet her!" Christine found herself becoming excited as if she were a gawkish child again.

Meg quickly ran backstage, while Christine smiled at her husband.

Within seconds, Meg pranced right back, dragging a young woman with her. To Christine, she seemed to be only a little younger than both she and Meg. She couldn't see her face completely as she had her face turned away, but her she had pale skin with a heart-shaped face and the oddest colored copper-brown hair.

"Alethea, this is my friend whom I've been telling you about," Meg, smiled, her white teeth shinning like marvelous pearls. "Alethea, this is Christine."

Alethea turned around to face the people Meg had so dearly wanted her to meet.

To Christine, everything seemed to fall into a slow motion alternate universe. Her eyes were struck like lightening when she finally saw Alethea, especially when she spotted Alethea's eyes. They were the same exact peculiar shade of violet that belonged to.....her sister!

The room began spinning and then everything went dark.

"Christine! Christine!" the faint droning voice of her husband echoed in her ears. Her vision started clearing and the image of Raoul fell into her eyes.

"Oh! Thank! God!" Raoul cried, hugging his wife to him, his grip so hard, Christine thought she might pass out again.

Christine patted her husband's back. "Raoul, I'm all right. I'm all right." She rose up, still gripping to her husband. "Oh, it's just been so overwhelming for me to have returned like this in such short time. Excuse me."

She looked over to Meg and Alethea who were both wide-eyed and also relieved that everything was all right.

"Christine! Christine!" Meg rushed over, trying to be gentle as she didn't want to frighten her friend into another fainting spell. "Oh, thank goodness you're all right."

Christine stifled a small laugh before she looked over to Alethea. She didn't bother missing her violet eyes, which so closely resembled that of Sofia's eyes. But Christine composed herself and brushed off any invisible dust off her pale rose gown.

"Forgive me for my episode," Christine felt compelled to apologize even though fainting was not her fault. "I am Christine Daae de Chagny."

"It's an honor to meet you, Mme. De Chagny," Alethea curtsied even though she wasn't sure if it was necessary. "And it's perfectly all right. None of us would have expected you to faint. Are you all right?"

Christine laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. You are Alethea?"

"Yes," Alethea nodded, "Meg's been telling me so much about you. It's an honor to meet you."

Christine laughed only because she felt it the appropriate time for a laugh.

* * *

"Raoul, listen to me!" Christine started unpacking her bags while she and Raoul were getting ready for bed. Mme. Giry had graciously offered them a room at the opera house.

Raoul knotted his bathrobe together over his night clothes. "Christine, there can't be! Besides there are so many holes in your theory that can't be proven."

"But she has _her _eyes! Raoul! She has Sofia's eyes!" Christine sat on her and Raoul's bed, in her nightgown. "Oh God! Raoul, when I saw those eyes, I thought I must have gone insane! She has Sofia's exact same shade of violet eyes! Oh Raoul! I hope I didn't do any harm to the baby."

Raoul slowly walked over to his wife and when he finally approached her, he enveloped her into his warm arms. Kissing her hair, he cooed gently into her ear. "Christine! I don't think it's possible. First off, her name is Alethea, not Sofia. Second, there's got to be more people in this world who have those same eyes. And Alethea didn't even have any recollection that you're her sister. She didn't acknowledge that. I don't mean to sound rude about her, but isn't that the truth?"

Christine's tears were slowly ending as her husband's words set in. "Yes, I suppose so, but still Raoul, there's no one else in this world who I have seen with those same eyes. Maybe I'm being paranoid."

"Christine, don't worry about it. Just focus on what you came here to do," Raoul kissed her tenderly. "Now come, you've had a long day. And with everything that's happened today, I think you need some bed rest."

Christine nodded and slipped off her slippers before she fell under the covers next to Raoul. They both snuggled like a happily married couple should have been. And Christine could swear she knew the baby wanted that as well.

* * *

"Is is true?" Erik turned around to face Alethea immediately. Alethea, however was startled by his response.

"Yes, Christine Daae has returned, well maybe I should say Christine de Chagny has returned," Alethea repeated yet again to the opera ghost.

Deep down inside, Alethea had been so unsure and so anxious about the day's events. She was well aware of what had occurred between Erik and Christine and she knew about Erik's deep love for Christine. When she realized that it was Christine, Alethea felt her heart sank. She couldn't believe that the woman Erik spoke of and was infamous with, had returned. And she was there, right in front of her eyes. In that moment, when Alethea first laid eyes on the woman that Erik had devoted his life to, she only worried about what could happen? She worried about what Erik would think? But Alethea, being the person she was, told him herself. _After all, _she thought_, he would have found out on his own, eventually. _

And when she fainted, Alethea had been worried about her. It wasn't that Alethea thought she shouldn't care about a person who she just met and most likely had been her rival, but it was the extreme feelings of concern that possessed her. It was much more than just a kind heart at work ,but she felt a deeper connection to this woman.

Erik paced around his lair. He thought he was about to faint when Alethea revealed the new to him. She's back, he thought. He couldn't jumped up and down in joy, but he also wondered, why should he? After all, he had Alethea now? He loved her, not Christine. In fact Christine had completely evaporated from his thoughts for the longest time, since he met Alethea. But when Alethea uttered those magical words to him, it was as if three years ago had struck him in his face.

He returned his attentions to Alethea. Her beautiful heart-shaped face and copper-brown hair, accompanied by her eyes. But it was more than physique, but her kind heart. How sweet she had always been to him and how caring and affectionate. He loved her now; she was the one who possessed his heart. Yet, even though he had convinced himself that, not even he could deny that feeling of meek affection for Christine. A burning love, even though it had now reduced to a mere spark, it still lived in him.

_I don't want to think of Christine, _he thought, smiling at the woman he was in love with, now. _I love Alethea. She's always been mine, even when she only first met me. She's always treated me with care and concern, even during those times when I wouldn't deserve it from her. She's my true angel and she has yet to hurt me in any way, not even when we first met. _

He chuckled to himself, recalling their first meeting when they both nearly killed each other.

His laughter always comforted her. Even when he was only laughing, his voice was beautiful.

"What are you smiling at, Erik?" Alethea found herself smiling.

He wrapped his arms around her delicate waist and pulled her to him. "Just thinking about you and how much I love you." He kissed her lovingly.

In that moment, Alethea knew she had nothing to worry about. She, too, however, couldn't deny the tiny whisper in her heart that suggest the one thing that could harm her most.

_Erik still loves Christine. Don't trick yourself into not believing that.

* * *

_

******My deepest apologies for not updating like I promised I would. Hope you guys will forgive me with this next installment. **


	23. The Unknown Reunion

**Chapter 22**

**The Unknown Reunion**

Early next morning, Alethea awoke to the sounds of the birds outside singing their little melodies. Without any delay, she dressed herself in a empire-waist white gown with navy blue stripes trailing vertically down the skirt. Meg was sleeping soundly, dreaming of her fantasies, which Alethea couldn't help, but smile at.

As quiet and as sneaky as she could be, she crept downstairs into one of the music rooms. It was dark and quiet in there, which had been perfect for Alethea to practice more on the piano. Drawing back the curtains, she breathed in the fresh new day before her, admiring the view and filled with hope at the dawn of a new day.

She drew herself over to the piano, where she began practicing scales first off before anything else. When she was done, warming up her delicate fingers, she immediately fell into a musical piece of which it was light-hearting and warm. The playfulness of the melody drew her back into a trance where she was sure she was seeing the sunrise and sunset of her childhood days.

It was more than just a mere dream, but not like the intensities of a hallucination. She saw the wheat-like grass and the sunshine falling upon her face.

"_Come on, Anthony!" _she heard the voice of her immature self calling out to her adoptive cousin, Anthony, who had still been in the stables tending to the horses. Alethea saw him again, as her playful cousin, whom she often played with.

_Anthony looked at her and smiled. His chestnut curls tangled about in his hair as he gently brushed the horse's coat. Though he was somewhat annoyed at her consistent playful behavior sometimes, he, nevertheless, loved her. _

"_Come on, Anthony! Let's play!" the little Alethea cried out as she ran out into the fields. She didn't have to look behind her to hear Anthony's steps rumbling after her as they chased each other around the field. _

Suddenly, a knock rapped at the door, waking Alethea from her dream-like memory. She was startled at first, fearing that she might be in trouble for being in the music room so early in the morning.

"Come in," she bid, standing up to welcome her guest.

Christine appeared behind the door. "Oh!" Christine seemed to be just as startled as Alethea had been. "I'm sorry. I heard music playing and I just couldn't resist. That was very beautiful with what you had played there, Ms….Alethea?"

"Yes, Alethea, that's my name, " Alethea giggled under her breath. "It's a fair morning to see you again, Madam de Chagny."

"Please, there's no need for formalities," Christine replied, slowly approaching the girl. "Please, just call me Christine. I was hoping to see you again."

Alethea almost seemed surprised. "Me? Oh, there's nothing too important about me."

"Please, if you'll comply," responded Christine. "I wanted to apologize for my odd behavior yesterday. You just really reminded me of someone I once knew a long time ago."

"Oh really?" Christine had managed to peak Alethea's interest. "That's the first time I've heard someone say that to me."

Christine laughed along with her. "Yes, I know I've only just met you, but you oddly remind me of my baby sister, Sofia. I lost her a long time ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," sympathy swept through Alethea. "How old was she?"

"Only about five years old. She'd be your age right now if she were here," Christine answered, as she knew the longer she would dwell on this subject, the harder it would be for her to keep herself from crying. "I don't know what happened to her and I don't know if she's even alive."

At that moment, Alethea was confused. "Wait. What do you mean you don't know what happened to her?"

"You see, she went missing at a train station when we were younger and I lost her in the crowd. My father and I searched endlessly for her, but we never found her. We only assumed she was dead," Christine tried to hold herself together, as she was sure, she would cry soon.

Alethea could see the damage she was making and rushed over to hold up Christine. "I'm sorry I forced you into speaking about this subject."

"No, it's all right, Alethea," Christine sniffled a bit. "I'm sorry I even forced my personal ghosts upon you."

"Don't even apologize," Alethea pleaded. "I won't deny that I, myself, have my own demons in my life. I was orphaned or abandoned when I was about five, myself."

Immediately, Christine looked up, intrigued. "What?"

"Well, I don't know too much about what happened," answered Alethea reflecting back onto her own childhood. "I was found wandering the countryside when I was five-years-old. A farmer and kind wife and nephew took me in and raised me as their own daughter. The only clue I have to my childhood is this…."

And with that declaration, Alethea revealed the silver locket she had hidden in her dress. The light of the sun shimmered off of it, reflecting more light around the music room. Christine stared in shock; her eyes bugging out like that of an insect.

At first, she tried to convince herself that it was dream. She tried to pretend that she didn't see the oval shape of it nor did she want to see the French lily carved upon the locket, itself. Christine finally believed she going insane.

Before she could glance upon the locket again, Alethea tucked it back under her dress. "I'm sorry. The sun light must have been blinding you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that's exactly it!," Christine agreed, though she knew it wasn't the truth.

* * *

Later that day, Christine rushed back into her and Raoul's suite. Raoul was almost startled by his wife's behavior as she flew into his arms, sobbing.

"Christine! Christine! What's wrong?" he begged her to tell.

"Oh Raoul! I can't believe it! I can't!" she sobbed, burying her face in his shirt. "I swear I must be losing my mind!"

"Christine! Christine! Please calm down!" Raoul pleaded. "Acting irrationally will do no good for you or the baby. Now please calm down and tell me what ails you."

Christine's sobbing ceased and looked up into the face of Raoul. "Raoul! Oh God! Raoul! Alethea! Alethea! She-she--she! She has…the locket!"

"Locket? What locket do you mean?" he begged her to say.

Christine's voice was blurred over by more sobs and fits of tears. "When Sofia and I were children, Papa had commenced a matching set of lockets be made for us. One that would go to Sofia with my portrait in it! And I would have one with Sofia's portrait in it! And Alethea has the matching locket!"

"Now, Christine, you must be rational!" instructed Raoul, looking at her plainly in the eyes. "Come, there must be other lockets out there that must also look like yours. Maybe Alethea just happens to have the same one. Did you check to see if there was a portrait of you in the locket?"

However, not even those words comforted Christine. "No Raoul! Listen to me! Alethea told me she was orphaned when she was only five! That was the same age that Sofia went missing! Then she told me that she was found wandering the countryside and that she has no recollection of her family!"

"And that's precisely it, Christine!" Raoul cried. "Alethea has no recollection of her family. Surely if she is your sister, she would remember you! Besides for all you know, maybe she was just simply an orphan! Please, Christine! Stop obsessing over this! It will only destroy your mental health!"

"I can't Raoul! I just simply can't!" she pushed away from him. "There must be some other proof," she muttered under her lips. "There must be some sort of other sign that she is my sister. I'll need to check her locket. I promise, Raoul! I promise, if my portrait is not in that locket, you have my word that I shall stop dwelling on Sofia."

Those words managed to calm Raoul and he walked over to his wife and embraced her. "Thank you Christine. You'll see that this is the best. It's better for you to move on. Sofia would want that for you, wouldn't she?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Christine sighed under her breath. "I just only hope the guilt will fade away too."

* * *

**Please, please, please forgive me for my delay in updating. Since school is being a pain and I've been bothered with other nonsense activities, I haven't been able to find time to update. I can't really say when I'll be finished with this story. I was hoping to be done before 2010, but I guess that's not happening. Thank you to my faithful readers and reviewers and I hope you haven't given up yet on my story. It will finish, but I can't promise a time when it will. **


	24. A Shocking Scene

**Chapter 23**

**A Shocking Scene**

Alethea rushed down into the labyrinth of the opera house, eager to see Erik after a long day of rehearsal for Rusalka and piano practice. She thought her fingers could have started bleeding from all the practice. Luckily, they were spared from any damage.

Erik's organ resonated throughout the entire labyrinth and she followed the sound of the music as she had once before. It was distinguishable then for her to realize that he must have been composing in his lair, for the music sounded only like something of which he, himself would have been playing.

The only problem that now came to her was: how was she suppose to reach the other side? She didn't want to risk swimming only because she didn't want to ruin her clothes and the other important reason had been that Erik would, most surely, have installed some sort of trap to prevent anyone from entering his home so easily. The only idea that reached Alethea was that she could try calling out to him, as her voice would most likely resonate through the underground as well, if his music could.

She rushed through the dark corridors, excitement and adrenaline seeping through her body in excitement to see the man she loved.

When she finally reached the lake, she was stunned for Erik was there, standing right in front of the lake, the boat floating behind him. For sure, Alethea suspected it to be trick, but she realized it was truly him, when she heard him laughing.

"Come, Alethea, did you not expect me to be here, waiting for you?" Erik spoke like he was mocking her instincts. "Come, I'm sure there must be much for you to tell me then since you practically came running down here."

Though Alethea wished she could have made a remark back at him, she, instead, laughed as well before walking to him. Before she stepped into the boat, she turned around and kissed him, as delicately as a butterfly landing on a flower.

Kissing was never natural for Erik, not even after Christine has kissed him, but Alethea had changed that. She proved to him that a woman could love him, not out of pity, but out of real and true love.

Without a further delay, Alethea stepped onto the boat with Erik following and rowing as quick as ever, they reached the lair within a few minutes.

Both leapt off the boat and the two embraced each other for what felt like an eternity before Alethea looked up into his eyes with hers, glimmering with happiness and sparkle.

"Oh, Erik, can I ever be happier than this?" she laughed, feeling more girlish in her life than she ever did before. "I must tell you, rehearsals today have exhausted me. Sometimes, I only wonder how all the other great sopranos and singers ever managed. Perhaps my talent is inferior to their's."

Immediately, Erik frowned. "Now, Alethea, how can you possibly say that about yourself? With more training, your voice will soar into the skies, perhaps even greater than Christine's."

At the mention of Christine, Alethea's smile disappeared. "Have you seen her yet? Spoken to her?"

"Now why would you ask such a preposterous question?" Erik demanded, his seriousness masked his personality again.

Alethea smiled slightly. "Because, I'm only wondering. Come, Erik. She was your prodigy and the love of your life for nearly ten years. You can't tell me you've completely forgotten her all because of me."

"I haven't forgotten her, my dear," Erik replied with a sour tone, but he tried to be sweet. "I'm…just…"

"Are you afraid to look at her because you're afraid you'll then fall in love with her again and then forget about me?" the answer spilled out of Alethea before Erik could comprehend the answer.

The look on Erik's face turned to complete hurt. "Now Alethea. Please don't think it like that. You know how much I love and cherish you. You think that I'll go back to a woman who left me three years ago and married another."

Alethea tried to not look at Erik. There were hints of doubt drawn all over her face. "Erik, please understand. You've loved her for ten years. I know you love me, but I know that you must still have feelings for her. Can you deny that?"

"No," the answer was blunt, but it didn't hurt Alethea or Erik.

Erik came up behind Alethea and swept her into his arms, looking into her violet eyes. "Can you tell me that you would stop loving me?"

"Of course not," the smile came back to Alethea who kissed his mask. "I love you and that's all I want to know."

* * *

Christine, on the other hand, had been trying to sleep soundly in her bed. Raoul managed well, but Christine was restless. She got out of bed and tied her bathrobe about her. With one last glance of love at her peaceful husband, Christine snuck out of the room.

She wandered through the dark hallways that were only lit by tiny candles that could barely make the hallway visible. However, Christine was looking for something, which she hoped would be what gave her closure the most.

Though it had been three years with remodeling and restoration, Christine managed to wander back to her former dressing room. It still has the lovely rose adorned and painted upon the door. Grasping the brass door knob, she pushed open the door.

To her astonishment, the room was completely lit as if someone had been in the room. Looking around, Christine gazed upon the many furniture and room decorations which brought back the memory of her first night when she first debuted on the stage and then arrived to this dressing room. This was the room where she first met Erik and the room where she spoke to Raoul after nearly ten years. The memories swept over Christine, but she tried to hold herself together.

The last thing she spotted in the room was the huge grand mirror which had been the portal to Erik, to his kingdom of music. Unable to resist the urge, Christine placed her fingertips lightly on the glass.

In the corner of her eyes, she noticed an odd light. It was seeping out of the mirror. Remembering that this was the mirror where she first went into the catacombs, Christine observed the light. Without hesitation, she pressed on the glass and dragged it away from the light escasping it.

The mirror slid easily like the door it was. And right in front of her, Christine saw that the passage was lit, like someone truly had been in there. She stepped into the passage and slowly began her descent into the underworld, remembering the exact passage of her journey from many years before.

She didn't need a boat to get across the lake for she remembered another passage she once took that took her directly to the lair.

* * *

Alethea looked over at the organ, which was scattered with numerous sheets of manuscripts and music. "Have you been playing again? Composing?"

"Yes, all thanks to my wonderful muse," Erik smiled, half-crookedly, approaching Alethea. "Because of you, it is a new opera. One that shall be better than _Don Juan _and it shall all be thanks to you."

Alethea smiled. "Really? What is it about?"

"A man down on his luck with the lost of his wife. He has no hope and he wanders into a bar one night and finds a young woman singing. He is immediately enraptured with her and believes her to be his wife, reincarnated. He becomes obsessed with her and tries to possess her but in the end he realizes that the girl is not his wife and he loves her for herself."

A laugh escaped from Alethea. "Might I inquire as to where you found this wonderful inspiration?"

"You know it yourself too well, Alethea," Erik laughed and pulled her into his arms. "I don't ever want to lose you, Alethea."

"Then I won't ever leave you," Alethea promised.

And with that, they sealed their promise with a kiss, as sweet and as innocent as a butterfly and a flower.

However, unaware to them, another pair of eyes had been watching: Christine's.

* * *

**Yay! Another update! I hope you guys enjoy this and I will update again when I can. I love you all and thank you again to my readers and reviewers. **


	25. Jealousy and Anthony

Chapter 24

Jealousy and Anthony

Christine was nearly ready to faint after watching that scene, however her legs managed to support her back upstairs where she was short of breath. Sweat drops broke from her pores, dripping over her face and soaking her night dress.

'_No!…No! It can't be!'_ she panted like a wild dog in need of water. _'I couldn't have! That…that…that just couldn't have been! No! It was NOT Alethea!' _However, no matter how many times Christine tried to remind herself that, the truth just wouldn't fade. She wished she was really insane for if it were, then her nightmares wouldn't be coming true.

"Wait! What am I thinking?" Christine caught a hold of her mind. "I'm not in love with Erik. I'm married to Raoul. I mean it's all right isn't it? I mean, yes, Alethea and Erik. That is absolutely fine. Why should it matter that they were kissing? Isn't it better that Erik has moved on? Yes, I think so." Christine laughed at her silliness, but then her eyes turned dark with frustration. "Except the fact that _she _could be my baby sister."

Realizing that she was alone in the dark, outside her former dressing room, Christine hurried along down the hall, dragging her feet, not caring if her slippers fell off.

"Erik was _mine_!" Christine whispered to herself, her fists clenching together so hard that she was sure her nails must have broken the skin on her palms. "He was _my _angel first! How could he! How dare he! How dare Alethea! The two of them! Wait! No, I decided that it was ok,; it was absolutely fine! I mean the woman that I think might be my long lost sister and the man who taught me to raise and perfect my voice. Yes, absolutely nothing!"

Out of nowhere, Christine flung a vase of flowers off a near table stand. Her eyes turned to slits and she had to bit her lip to keep herself from screaming in anger and frustration.

'_He was mine first! He should still be mine! To hell with Raoul and the consequences! Erik was mine first! How dare Alethea touch him! How dare she kiss him so! Her! Of all people! She could be my sister!' _Christine kicked the vase out of her way.

When she reached her room, she tried to calm down, but instead, she ended up suppressing her feelings. She wanted to destroy Alethea; she didn't care that that brat could be her sister. As Christine laid back in bed, her anger only seemed to expand.

'_She took my place as the star! Yes, I see her, there, looking so important and perfect on that stage! That should be me as Rusalka! That should be me!'_ Christine wanted to destroy everything in her path. She wanted Alethea destroyed and she didn't care if Alethea was her sister.

"I'll make her pay," Christine muttered to herself before she closed her eyes and fell asleep. As she dreamed, a sly smile crept across her face.

* * *

The next morning as rehearsals were well on track, Christine and Raoul sat in the audience admiring the hard work everyone was putting in, except for Christine who scowled each time she saw Alethea on stage, singing Rusalka. Christine tried so hard not to seem like anything was bothering her, but she just couldn't help it. It was eating her from the inside out and it took all her might and control not to leap onto the stage and attack Alethea.

As Alethea was singing the famous 'Song to the Moon', the rehearsals were suddenly interrupted as Monsieur Andre arrived on stage.

"Forgive my rude interruption, Monsieur Reyer," Andre promptly apologized to the conductor only for Reyer to send an evil glare at Andre.

"Mademoiselle Lanquerx," Andre turned to her, his bushy mustache seemed to obscure his mouth and speech. "A gentleman has arrived here to see you."

Just as Andre said, a well-dressed man with brown curly hair arrived on the stage. His bright brimming blue eyes twinkled at Alethea and her smile stretched across her pale skin.

"Anthony!" she cried, her voice like bells as she rushed over to her adoptive cousin. She flew into his arms and Anthony was not at all surprised.

"Oh Anthony! What are you doing here?" she smiled at his face, which she hadn't seen in so long. "I've missed you terribly."

"And I have as well," Anthony's smile was just as wide as hers. His blue eyes were sparkling with delight at having seen Alethea again.

"Excuse me," Reyer attracted their attention and Alethea remembered that they were in the middle of rehearsal. She turned back to Anthony. "Wait for me. We can speak after rehearsals."

Anthony nodded and exited as Alethea pranced back to center stage and started her aria from the beginning.

Meanwhile in the audience, though Raoul was paying attention to the rehearsal, Christine smiled in her own scheming delight as she had just found the perfect pawn in her plans for revenge.

'_Now I know they will pay,'_ she smiled, rubbing her hands together.

* * *

After rehearsals, Alethea met up with Anthony behind the stage.

"Come," she grabbed his hand, "We can talk in the chapel." Without another notice, she dragged Anthony off into the direction of the chapel. Alethea laughed as she remembered that this was how it was as well when she and Anthony had been children and she used to drag him everywhere to play.

Anthony was laughing as well at the childish behavior of Alethea. He had missed her very much and was seeing that it was indeed worth coming to the opera house to see her again.

When they had finally reached into the chapel, Alethea took him over to one of the pews and they sat down together in front of a fresco of an Angel and heaven.

"Oh Anthony," Alethea hadn't let go of his hand. "It's been so wonderful, here, at the opera! I've learned so much and have evolved so well. Don't worry, my father won't be disappointed. I've been practicing my sword-fighting and combat on the roof."

"Yes, your father will be pleased," Anthony laughed. "Oh, Alethea, how I've missed you so much. It feels like it's been ages since I've last seen you. I was ready to scold your father for suggesting to send you here."

Alethea laughed, knowing her cousin's behavior. "Anthony, I've been perfectly well and I'm very happy here."

"I can see," Anthony looked deep into her mesmerizing violet eyes. "You haven't changed at all, have you? Your voice! Oh, Alethea, your singing was beautiful. It was just as mesmerizing as your eyes."

"Thank you," more laughter erupted from Alethea. "Now my stay has only gotten better since you're here now. I'm sorry I haven't had time to write home. I've just had so much on my hands as you can see."

"Yes, well I think the role of Rusalka was made specifically for you, considering how I see Rusalka as a love struck, playful and especially mischievous nymph like you."

"Well, may I ask why you're here? Other than to see me?" Alethea moved from the subject of her as she was more interested in finding out more of her cousin.

Anthony chuckled, looking away for a few seconds. Suddenly the atmosphere turned dense and Alethea sensed that something must have been wrong.

"Alethea, I want you to come back with me," Anthony spoke, serious and like a well-bred man that he had the appearance of. "Alethea….I….I love you."

"What!" Alethea stood up, nearly knocking over the pew. " Wait! Anthony! Come! You must be delusional or the air must have gotten to you."

"No!" Anthony grabbed her hand, gently for he didn't want to scare her. "Alethea, please. I love you. I've been in love with you since your father adopted you. I've always loved you. Marry me, Alethea! Please, marry me."

Alethea stared, wide-eyed and in deep shock. "Anthony…I-I..I don't know what to say."

"I understand that the opera house is important to you and I'm not forcing you to leave," Anthony explained, looking up at her like an angel. "You can stay here and expand your talents, but please tell me that soon sometime in the near future, I can call you my 'wife'."

What was once shock, now turned to pity and sympathy. "Anthony. I love you very much…but that love only lives between us as cousins. It's not that you're repulsive or that I don't love you, but….I only love you like the cousin and playmate that you've always been to me. Please understand that."

Alethea turned to leave, but before she could, Anthony stood up. "Alethea!" he cried to her, pleadingly, making Alethea feel only more guilty. "Please. Even though you don't love me like I wish you would, would you please consider me as a possible future husband…if no other outcome should come?"

A breath escaped from Alethea. She turned her face a quarter to look at him. "Maybe," she said, before she took off out of the chapel, knowing that the answer she gave was a lie.

* * *

**Well, another update! Thank you guys so much for still reading this story! I love you all and I hope this next update will make you guys even happier! ^_^**


	26. Schemes and Regrets

**Chapter 25**

**Schemes and Regrets**

Almost immediately after Alethea dashed from the chapel, she paused in the corridor, pondering on what had just occurred. She hated herself for hurting Anthony like that, but she couldn't lie and tell him she loved him to spare his feelings. She was in love with Erik and she would make no lie upon that.

She was surprised that she didn't see Anthony behind her, coming up from the chapel as well. It wasn't natural for Alethea to feel such guilt like this. She loved Anthony, indeed, she did, but all it was, was simply platonic and nothing more.

'_Oh, Anthony, please forgive me,'_ she felt tears boil under her eyelids. Without looking back, Alethea continued on, struggling to hold tears back.

Meanwhile, Anthony still lingered in the chapel, seated upon one of the pews. He sighed and a tear trailed down his face. He had never been able to understand the nature of Alethea, but this time, he understood that perhaps he was not the one for her.

'_I just don't understand,' _he thought, trying to compress all the actions that had just occurred. _'Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be after all.' _He stood up, readying himself to leave the chapel, when suddenly; another woman came upon his way.

She was beautiful, looked to be about in her twenties. Her hair was silky chestnut entwined into curls and her eyes were a glistening set of chocolate. She came upon him, slowly, like a temptress seeking revenge. "Hello," she greeted with such a melodic voice that reminded him of the church bells. "I'm Christine de Chagny. Sorry to intrude upon anything, but I just wanted to speak to you."

Though she was quite attractive, Anthony recoiled from her, cautiously. "Well, I'm not in the middle of anything at the moment, but please, Madam, I will happily speak with you later." He tried to brush past her till she mentioned:

"Are you and Alethea close?" she asked him, casually leaning up against the wall, pretending to be occupied with something in her fingernails.

Anthony stopped in his tracks. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"Oh, well, it's not much, but, do you love her?" she pulled up closer to him, almost in a seductive manner.

Suddenly Anthony pulled his senses back together. "Wait a minute, why do you want to know all this?"

She looked away, trying to look naive. "Well, do you know the story of the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Faintly, but please, Madam, just tell me what is going on," he begged pulling himself back into the chapel, to face her.

Christine turned to look at him, feigning concern in her deceitful eyes. "Your precious Alethea is being force to fornicate with him. He's been threatening her, tricking her into believing that he loves her and she loves him, but in all reality he just wants to possess her."

Anthony recoiled back, in horror. "Madam, do you even know what you're speaking about. And I thought this phantom fellow was dead. What do you speak of?"

A smirk drew across her face. "Alethea is being deceived, herself. You must help her get her senses back together. Please, she is also quite dear to me as well. I just want what's best for her."

"Well, I am in love with her, but she has rejected my advances," a sullen Anthony spoke in that manner of regret.

Christine placed a comforting hand on him; she was quite delighted at how her schemes were going so far. "Please, help her; try to convince her that she doesn't love him. Or at least, get rid of this phantom fellow and take her away. She'll get her senses back and I'm sure you two will be the happiest couple in Paris."

Anthony looked back at Christine. "I think you are right, Madam. I have to help her. I love Alethea and I think she's just been too blinded to realize that. Thank you, Madam de Chagny."

Without another word, Anthony dashed from the chapel, leaving Christine alone with her scheming smile. She clapped her hands together in joy.

"My plans are going to accord," she took a seat on one of the pews. "Thank you God, for granting me this opportunity."

Her tummy kicked as she felt the child grow. She placed a hand on her belly. "Raoul, I'm sorry for acting like this, but when a woman is disturbed as I am, there will be nothing to get in my way."

She did feel some regret at this. "I know this isn't the right thing, especially considering the fact that she could be my sister, but I can't let that stand in my way either. Besides, why would she even be my sister? She doesn't remember me. She doesn't remember anything. Even with that locket, she could have gotten it from anywhere."  
She smiled at herself, the guilt slowly fading from her conscience. "This will pay off in the end."

Without another word, she exited the chapel, unaware that another pair of ears had heard this.

* * *

**I know sorry doesn't cut the fact that I've been neglecting this story. Junior year of high school can be a pain and you get buried in all this never-ending work. I will try to finish this story, but it could take me a while. Please be patient with me and I will try to finish. **


	27. I Want You Back

**Chapter 26  
I Want You Back **

Like a snake making way to its prey, Christine crept down into the depths of the dark lair of which she had traveled down once before a long time ago. These steps were as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Tonight she was going to go and try to win Erik back. There could be no way a daft wall flower like Alethea could surpass the lasting love Erik had for Christine. Even the thump in her belly that reminded her of bond to Raoul wouldn't deny her her rights to see Erik. Though it was dark with the glowing illumination of the candles, Christine could almost recall every path down in the labyrinth. Once Erik had showed her a way to get to his lair, avoiding the lake. Luckily she could recall that path and promptly followed it.

Erik sat at his organ, his white shirt half-way opened as he composed his master piece. Tonight and forever he would write only with Alethea in his mind as his inspiration. What wondrous work was bestowed upon him as he furiously scribbled away with the tip of his quill slowly eroding. Each of the notes were like gentle symphonies leading up to the ultimate music.

His alarm went off, alerting him that someone was near. Standing up, he placed on his black formal jacket and scrambled to go greet and possibly annihilate his new guest. However he stopped in his trail when he saw that his guest had already entered.

Christine Daae.

She stood there, her hands together in front of her. Her hair had been gently tied up into a bun and she wore an elegant burgundy day dress. She looked more beautiful than ever. Erik couldn't deny that, but he realized that though she stood there, beautiful and willingly in his home, he felt nothing like he felt for her three years ago. Perhaps his feelings for her had been released and he couldn't possess any doubtful feelings for another woman other than Alethea. This was the moment in which true love had freed him.

"Hello Erik," she greeted in her angelic sweet voice. She twirled a little strand of her chestnut hair. Erik stared her with gentle eyes as only platonic feelings surfaced. However he couldn't help but notice her slightly protruding belly that revealed the early stages of pregnancy. As the phantom, he had known all along as business was his to deal with in the opera and that meant all business.

"Christine," he bowed like a gentleman. "I trust you are well this evening. May I inquire as to why you have decided to visit me this evening?"

"Oh, Erik, you should know me," Christine giggled playfully. "I've been there and here, but I'll go straight to the point. Erik, I want you back."

Erik was taken aback by her plea. "Christine, what are you saying?"

"Isn't it obvious, Erik? I _want _you back," she repeated her proposition. "Please, it doesn't matter how long it's been. I'll leave Raoul and come back to you and I'm sure as soon as you tell Alethea to scram, she'll be out of Paris before the next sunrise."

She confidently approached him and was about to kiss him when she felt him push her away. Stunned she looked at Erik, confused. "Erik! What are you doing?"

A hesitant sigh echoed from Erik. "I'm sorry, Christine. I love you, but not in the way I use to love you. I've found someone else and I cherish her more than anything. She has healed me, she helped me and now I don't ever want to let her go."

The impact of Erik's words were so strong that for a moment, Christine believed she had been entered a hallucination. "No! No! What are you-you can't be saying to me-"

"Christine," Erik walked over and took her hand. "Even if I did want you back or even now, how can you be with me? You're married and I know you're having a baby. Would you really just leave him?"

Christine whipped her hand from him. "I would Erik. I was going to, but-but how can you-you just...leave me like that? What could Alethea give you that I couldn't?"

"For one, my dear, she neither feared or cowered before me," Erik circled around the room. "Second, she loved me first and no one else. Christine, she saw my face and she wasn't afraid. She loved me behind the mask, behind my face. Yes, Christine, your voice is angelic and lovely. Hers is just as equally."

That last comment sent Christine over the edge. Uncontrollable of her emotions she slapped Erik without hesitation. Erik recoiled a bit as he placed him hand over the sting of her impact. His mask had fallen and he quickly retrieved it. Behind him, Christine was fuming with absolute anger. Her face was beet red and her fists were clenched. She didn't care if she was pregnant and that this could be fatal for the child. It didn't matter and she didn't care if this was Raoul's child, she was upset at this declaration from Erik.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she yelled, her anger unlimited and unbound. "How dare you set your eyes on someone other than me! I'm your angel! You're my angel! No one ELSE!"

She was ready to fly her fists at him again, till he grabbed them. Christine's eyes grew wide with shock as she remembered how strong he was. Trying to be gentle, he forced her to the ground, setting on her knees.  
"Christine," he placed a hand under her chin to force her to look up at him. "You are still special to me, but I don't love you like that anymore. Please understand."

Tears filled her angry eyes. "What if I told you," she sniffled under her breath. "What if I told you that she does have another man?"

"Anthony, yes," Christine was stunned again at the fact he already knew.

"Yes, I know about Anthony," he replied, "but I know that Alethea loves me and I won't doubt her love at all. Please understand that."

Christine shoved him away from her. She stood up, the fury burning in her eyes. "I'll make you pay, Erik. You'll see that Alethea isn't the one for you. I'll wait for you Erik. I know you'll come back to me. I'll wait as long as it takes."

Without waiting another second, Christine exited through the door. Erik sat there, worried at what had become of his once-sweet angel. He feared for her and her sanity and he hoped that she would eventually come around. At the moment, he decided that he would watch over Alethea more closely as he feared Christine would now be planning something deadly and dangerous, for all of them.


	28. Dreaming of Memories

**Chapter 27**

**Dreaming of Memories**

"_I remember this place. I remember this scent. How could I possibly forget?" _

_The voice echoed as a wheat field stretched out before her fingertips. These weren't her hands, though, were they? They were her hands, but different. They were younger and more childish with hints of baby fat. _

_The sky was so clear and beautiful. It was different, however. Before her, stretched a vast forest beyond the golden wheat field. The atmosphere was different as well. It was innocent, it was free of any sin. She remembered this place._

_Though her vision was blurry she could see clear around her. Her feet softly pressed against the ground as she felt the wind blow her little dress skirt. She remembered wearing this dress. It had been a baby blue worn over a white short-puffed sleeve slip. She remembered that it had been her favorite summer dress. _

"_Sofia! Stand still, child," a deep yet comforting voice commanded her. She couldn't see the face that possessed that voice, but it was so familiar. She remembered this moment. Paints on palettes meeting with the canvas. _

_What confused her more was Sofia. Who was that? Why did the man call her that?_

_Suddenly in her line of vision, she saw another young girl, only a few years older than she. Her face was round but slightly oval and pale. Chestnut curls draped her head. This girl wore an indigo skirt and a pale blue puffed-sleeve shirt. She looked so familiar. Sofia, as that was what she was called, stretched her hands out to this stranger that she didn't know. _

"_Come here, Sofia," the girl picked her up and held her in her sweet gentle arms. "Don't worry, Papa, I got her," cried the voice of the girl. She was the speaking to the man who had just commanded Sofia to be still. _

_Suddenly the scene changed. This time it was crowded. There were people everywhere around her, all in coats and furs. They were carrying luggage or looking and clinging to loved ones. There was talk everywhere and the chime of a clock echoed near. _

"_Come, along, Sofia,"_ _Sofia turned and saw the same girl she had seen in the previous vision. This time the girl was wearing a red coat and a round hat over her curly hair. She gripped onto Sofia's hand as they hustled through the vast crowd of people. Though she tried to keep hold, suddenly their hands broken apart._

"_Sofia!" screamed the girl in frantic frenzy as she tried to reach out to Sofia. "Sofia! Sofia! Sofia!" _

_Though Sofia tried to reach for the girl's hand, too many people got in her way. Suddenly she could no long see the other girl among the crowd. She had drowned behind the other bustling people trying to shove their way onto a train. Everything was spinning and suddenly her vision was unclear._

_'What's happening?'_

Alethea's eyes popped open as she sat up in bed. Sweat dripped down her temple as she took a breath. It was another nightmare. This time it seemed different. This time, it felt so real. Alethea got out of bed and laid her face in her hands.

'What does this mean?' she asked herself, happy that she hadn't awaken Meg who was asleep like a rock. 'I've been having all these dreams lately and I don't even know what they mean! What's going on! Who was that girl in my dream anyway?'

Calming herself down, Alethea decided that it would be best if she breathed and tried telling herself that it was a dream. Taking a few deep breaths, she wiped her brow and straightened her nightgown. Laying back down under the covers she took out her locket from her her nightgown. Gently taking it into her hands, she unclasped the locket.

The portrait inside was close to fading. Alethea could see thanks to the illumination of the moonlight into her room. Suddenly she noticed a striking resemblance between the portrait of the girl in her locket and the one she had seen. Why didn't she notice this before? However, Alethea decided that perhaps after years of looking at this mysterious portrait that perhaps it was only natural that this girl in the fading portrait was imprinted in her dreams.

"It's just a dream," Alethea whispered to herself. "Nothing more."

Alethea knew she needed sleep. The upcoming performance of 'Rusalka' was coming up in a few weeks and she knew she would need some sleep and relaxation before the performance. After all, she didn't want her nerves to overcome her.

Suddenly Alethea remembered another dilemma she was in: Anthony. He hadn't decided to return back to the countryside yet, but Alethea prayed that he would understand her decision and realize that she wasn't the one for him. She loved Erik and no one else.

Sitting back on her bed, she tried to calm herself. _Everything will get better. Everything will get better._ However, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that, her conscience wouldn't rest. _I can't help, but sense something in the wind. Something terrible and something horrible._

Letting go of her fear, she slept.

Morning came and Alethea awoke baptized with new hope. She dressed herself in a regular brown everyday gown with an empire waist and left her hair partially down. There was going to be rehearsal soon and she wanted to make sure she could capture the emotion and character of Rusalka. _Erik, I need your guidance more than ever now._

Meg suddenly awoke as well; it surprised Alethea that she would wake up so early since she usually slept through a war. "Good morning Alethea," she greeted, rubbing her eyes so that she could see through her groggy vision. "Must be a surprise that I'm awake this early isn't it?"

"Yes, but it's an era of change so don't worry," Alethea laughed, making sure she looked prepared for the day. "How was ballet last night?"

"Exhausting as usual," replied Meg who sat up and stretched her arms. She didn't forget to stretch out her legs and ankles so that they were ready for ballet. "Mother has gotten so strict upon me. Sometimes, I'm afraid all the pressure she places on me will push me away from dancing."

Alethea walked over and hugged Meg, nearly pushing them both over. "Don't let that happen, Meg. If you love ballet then you shouldn't let anything get to you. My mother would tell you that."

"Thank you, Alethea," Meg sat back up and changed from her nightgown to her ballet outfit. "Someday I know I'll be a successful ballerina, whether it be in France, Spain or even America. There's so much promise in America."

Alethea hadn't heard too much about America, but she knew that it was also an era of change over there as well. She did hear some news about New York and its rising metropolis. She even heard about how in America, they're more acceptable of people with deformities or disabilities. Perhaps Erik would like that, a place where he didn't have to be afraid of anything. He wouldn't have to be forced to hide.

"Oh, sorry Meg, but I need to leave," she insisted, tying the bow on the back of her dress before rushing out of their room.

Bustling down the hall, Alethea could was plunged into a world of hope and change. _Today, everything will get better_. She declared it to herself as she entered the stage area where practice was already in commencement. Monsieur Reyer was already in a fret, gathering together the composition. The orchestra were already warming up their instruments. The choir was trying on their costumes. Sets were being finished.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Meanwhile Christine sat in her and Raoul's room. Her gowns were getting tighter due to the pregnancy. She knew she would have to get a new set of clothing for that. However something else was maturing in her mind. A revenge plan on her way. _I don't care anymore if that bitch could be my sister. When she tries to take something that's mine, there's no mercy at all._

She stood up and walked over to the window. "I know just what I'll do now. Yes, Erik may not doubt her love, but could Alethea doubt his? Oh yes, I know exactly what to do. I know Alethea would be too smart for me to ensnare her in a compromising situation that would kill Erik. So instead, I'll turn it the other way. I'll go down to Erik and I'll find a way to make him look like he betrayed her. I'll find a way for him to be weak with me and I'll make sure Alethea is there. She'll never forgive Erik and she'll leave him. Then when she's seen how unfaithful he is, she'll never forgive him. He'll be in despair and I'll weave my way back in."

Suddenly the echo of angelic singing as well as the orchestra pierced her ears. Terribly enough, Christine hatched another reason to hate Alethea. "She took my place on the stage. She stole my light. Well, Alethea, you won't know what's coming for you. It will happen. It will _tonight!_"

Christine wasn't aware of how much damage was about to be done in that short time.


	29. Poisonous Kisses of the Truth

**Chapter 28**

**Poisonous Kisses of the Truth**

Alethea stared at herself in the mirror. In the reflective glass, she found someone other than herself. The girl in the mirror couldn't have been herself. There was something different; the girl in the mirror was taller, thinner...prettier than Alethea could have ever dreamed.

With that pale skin of perfect cream milk color and that delicate heart-shaped face that had no imperfections and the eyes which were as lovely as two lilacs.

_This is not me,_ she said to herself.

"Miss, please keep still," the costume designer fretted, grunting as she was fitting pins in place. "I can't afford any mistakes."

Alethea focused again on her efforts and stiffened like a statue in fear that one movement would cause her to collapse completely.

The costume fitted her perfectly, a champagne color draped over her perfectly. It was a V-neck with a slit that cut down to her belly with a band around the waist to keep the costume tied to her. It looked more like what a ballerina would have worn.

"You look beautiful," the costume designer declared, which seemed to have been the only lovely comment that Alethea had heard from her all day.

Alethea smiled, staring at herself again in the mirror. _'This isn't me,'_ she thought to herself again. "Thank you," she said to the costume designer.

* * *

"_O, moon, stand still for a moment,_ _  
Tell me, ah, tell me where is my lover!_  
_Tell him. please, silvery moon in the sky,_  
_That I am hugging him firmly,_ _  
That he should for at least a while_ _  
Remember his dreams!_ _  
Light up his far away place,_ _  
Tell him, ah, tell him who is here waiting!_  
_If he is dreaming about me,_  
_May this remembrance waken him!  
_ _O, moon, don't disappear, disappear!"_

Alethea sang her heart out as the conductor was slowly leading the orchestra. This was perhaps her favorite song out of the opera, maybe because it was the song that Rusalka sung with the most heart and happiness. After all, she was going to be silent for half of the second act. That saddened her; the fact that the heroine of the story was silenced for half the story.

There were times when Alethea didn't understand the motivation of Rusalka. She could understand the character's love for the prince, but why. Why did Rusalka love this prince? Why did she give up her family and life for a chance at love, most especially such a risky chance that would cost her her life if it didn't succeed? Alethea could never comprehend how Rusalka was so forgiving of the prince at the end of the story. Whenever Alethea imagined herself as Rusalka, she would have killed the prince for her own survival, love or not.

"Why don't we take a break?" Monsieur Reyer announced. Everyone immediately cleared the stage and shed their roles , becoming themselves again.

Alethea set herself down on a nearby prop, watching the rest of the company remove fake beards and heavy head dresses. She was so distracted watching everyone else that she didn't see Christine sit herself down next to her.

"Why Alethea, where do you look so gleefully?" Christine playfully asked.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Alethea apologized grasping her chest as she caught her breath from the surprise of her offender. "Christine, what are you doing here? Are you in the opera?"

"Well not in the opera, dear," Christine laid a gentle hand on Alethea's shoulder. "I watch from the distance. You have such an exquisite voice."

"Thank you," replied Alethea slowly moving out from under Christine's touch. Though she felt she could trust Christine, there was a sudden uneasiness in the air that warned Alethea otherwise. "I don't think I could match your voice. Everyone tells me it's the most divine and heavenly thing humans could ever hear."

"Oh?" for a moment, Christine actually felt flattered by the compliment. Shaking off the warmth of it, she returned back to her main plan. "Alethea, we've become so close to one another in the last few days. I want to give you a present."

"A present?" Alethea wasn't sure whether to be surprised or confused.

"Yes, a present," Christine smiled a crooked smile which scared Alethea a little bit.

Though Alethea was flattered by the idea, she felt that it wasn't wise to accept this gift."As nice as it is Christine, why don't we just stay as friends for now and presents can come later?" As she declared those words, her locket exposed itself on her bosom.

Christine stared at the locket intently. She still hadn't checked it to make sure that it wasn't her portrait that was in it. She realized, however, that even if that was her portrait in that little necklace, that it wouldn't change the fact that Alethea _stole_ Erik from her. '_Of all the people in the world that I had to lose the man I loved to, I had to lose him to my sister,'_ she snarled in her mind, before regaining composure. "All right," she finally agreed. "No presents for now."

"Thank you Christine. You've been a wonderful friend to me and I couldn't think of taking anything from you yet," Alethea smiled, comforted in relief.

_'Take anything from me? You've already stolen the man I love!"_ Christine's fists clenched together until the skin on her knuckles were about to tear.

"All right everyone!" Monsieur Reyer announced. "Back to the rehearsal."

Alethea got up, "Well thank you for being so kind to me, Christine. I must be getting back now."

"Wait," Christine urged slowly rising up. "May I see something for a second?"

It worried Alethea what Christine was to ask of her now. Nonetheless, she complied, "Yes?"

"I noticed your locket," observed Christine as her fingers reached out for it. "May I? I love lockets. I cherish them and I have one that looks identical to this one."

"Oh? Well then, of course," it was a relief to Alethea that Christine was only asking this of her. She feared from Christine's tone that it was going to be something more drastic.

With delicate and cautious fingers, Christine lifted the locket, observing the silver cast of it as well as the Fleur de lis on it. The locket was cold on her fingers which were already icy. _Identical!_ Christine's eyes widened in shock and her fingers trembled as she opened the latch.

Christine's eyes flew open with such shock. The site of her portrait laying in the locket was enough to make her faint just like on the first day she ever laid eyes on Alethea. Though the portrait was faded and very old, Christine recognized the contours and traces of her face from her youth.

Christine raised her eyes. She looked into the girl's lavender eyes, how they mocked her, reminding her of their relationship. _Alethea is my sister!_ She thought. She was on the near brink of tears. After so many long and so many painful years of thinking that her sister was dead, there she stood, all grand and beautiful, exactly the way Christine imagined she would look had she grown up. She had. Sofia had grown up. Christine was quick in masking her surprise before Alethea noticed anything. "It's...beautiful, Alethea," she complimented closing the locket. "What an exquisite portrait by the way. May I ask who is it?"

"To be honest, Christine, I do not know," answered Alethea who opened the locket to admire the person inside. "I've just had this locket as long as I can remember. I don't know who this girl is, but I'm sure it couldn't have been me."

Monsieur Reyer was becoming impatient as he made role call again. Not wanting to aggravate the conductor, Alethea quickly excused herself, rushing over to begin practice again.

_'That is my sister,'_ Christine sank to the ground. '_After so long. So long. So much time has passed. I never thought I would see her again. Yet, there she is, alive, well, healthy.' _Christine felt tears run down her face and she lifted herself up from the ground before anyone could notice that she was crying.

She found refuge in a lonely hallway where she could find solace. Leaning against the wall, Christine thought she could wail that fate was so cruel that would cause her such pain for the last fifteen years. The guilt still surged through her. '_Sofia is alive!'_ Christine looked up to the ceiling as if praying that the angels above would hear her. '_Do you hear me Papa? My sister is alive!'_

_'But,' _Christine looked to her side. She could still catch glimpses of the stage from where she stood. '_It doesn't change the fact that she still stole the man I love away from me. Sister or not, I don't care. When it comes to love, there are no sisters.'_ Her happy reunion had come to an end with the reminder that Erik was still out of her range. _'I will get Erik back, Alethea. I don't care if you're my sister. You treaded on my territory so now you'll understand what you'll get for doing that.'_

Wiping her tears, Christine continued down the hall.

* * *

Later that evening, Alethea had felt the exhilaration, the wonder, the brilliance. Rehearsal had gone so well; she could understand the adrenaline, the excitement of singing. It made her feel whole. Though the character was still complex for her to understand, she thought she could still feel a heart-to-heart connection with the character.

_I can't wait to see Erik!_ She was giddy and it was frustrating for the costume designer to help her remove her costume.

When she was free from the material, she quickly changed back into one of her regular day dresses.

Her heart was about to leap with joy and she couldn't wait to explain to Erik how wonderful it all felt. Maybe this was what he wanted her to achieve. If it was, she had obtained his goal.

As soon as she was away from everything, she headed for the entrance down into the catacombs.

* * *

"Christine, I don't understand your purpose of coming here," Erik had turned his back on her as she beseeched him. Christine had shown up in his lair again that night, which greatly frustrated Erik since he was expecting Alethea to arrive any second like she always did.

"Erik, please," Christine came up behind him. Her hands rested on his back, making him uncomfortable.

He turned to face her, forcing her to release her hands from his back. "What is it Christine?" he asked her, "what is it that you could possibly want from me?"

"I...I...I just want to apologize," smiled Christine with a sneaky smirk. "I understand that you love Alethea and that you want to be with her."

"What?"

"Yes," urged Christine as her hands suddenly came up to his face caressing his mask. With a fowl swoop she removed his mask. "Please Erik. After tonight you will never see me again."

Erik knew this was wrong. Even after so long, he would be lying to himself if he denied that he didn't have any feelings left for Christine. Despite that, however, he still realized that those feelings for Christine weren't as strong or as passionate as they were years ago. He love Alethea now and she was the only one he wanted to love.

"There's just one thing," Christine remarked coming closer. "Something I want before we part forever."

With that, she placed her lips on Erik's kissing him with all the passion she had left in the world. Erik thought he would fall over from such a surprise. His eyes widened when he saw a shadowy, but recognizable figure standing there.

"ERIK!" the couple separated as Erik felt his heart drop at the sight of what he saw.

Alethea stood there, her legs were trembling, tears were forming in her eyes.

"ALETHEA! NO!" he cried, but it was too late.

She fled the scene.


	30. You Can't Handle the Truth

Chapter 29

You Can't Handle the Truth

"Alethea! Wait!" Erik rushed after her, leaving a glowering Christine in his lair. She smiled with sinister delight at the success of her plan.

"You may have not wanted a present," she muttered to herself regarding Alethea, "but you got one anyways." She felt a sudden pang against her stomach. "Hush little one," she patted. "All is well." She smiled, taking her own leave of the scene. _'I always get my way Erik. If I can't have you, well then no one can.'

* * *

_

"Alethea!"

"Stay away from me!"

"Alethea please!" Erik begged reaching close enough to finally take a hold of her arm, forcing her to a halt.

"LET! ME! GO!" Alethea struggled trying to break free of her captor. Her efforts were of no use; Erik was still stronger than she. "You promised me you were over Christine! You said you loved me! You said that you didn't have any feelings left for her!"

Erik was struck with guilt. He had said and promised all those things to her. It would have been a lie if he claimed that he tried to pull away because the truth was, was that he even enjoyed it a little. It was still nothing compared to what he felt for Alethea. "Please," he begged, "She kissed me!"

"Right and you let her!" Alethea finally broke free from his grip, "What the hell was she even doing down here in the first place? Tell me! Tell me!"

Erik was silent, lost for words as he tried to explain.

"Exactly," Alethea continued. "I saw you Erik," she said calming down a bit, like she was defeated. "I saw the way you two kissed. Even though it was only for a second, I saw that look in your face that told me...it told me...that you still liked it, the way she kissed you. I saw it in your eyes, Erik," she started backing away from him. "You still love her...and I don't want to be second best for you."

With that declaration, she fled into the darkness. Alethea was so defeated in every aspect. She couldn't even comprehend the betrayal of two people she actually cared about. She loved Erik more than anyone in her entire life. Christine was becoming like a sister to her. Alethea thought she died and went to hell. Betrayal was always the worst aspect of people and she had to have first hand experience with that kind of pain.

Erik was defeated as well; everything she said was true. It pained him so much to know that he hurt her like that. She was right to say that he still held the tiniest ounce of sympathy and love for Christine, but that was all. '_…..Second best...' _to know that she thought he thought of her like that to that extent struck him like five daggers in his soul.

"Alethea!" he called out to her, continuing to follow her footsteps.

"Go Away!" he heard her voice echo back to him.

* * *

Alethea managed to make it back to her dressing room before Erik managed to catch up to her. She locked the door and went over to the mirror, knowing it was another point of passage for him. There was no way for her to lock it. At that moment, it hurt too much. Instead, she sank down in her chair at her vanity/desk, face buried in her arms as she sobbed.

_'I thought he loved him,'_ she cried as she started whipping items off her desk. _'I thought she was my friend.'_

"Alethea..." Erik's voice echoed into the room.

It took so much strength for Alethea to look up. "Go away! I don't want to speak to you! I don't ever want to see you!"

"Alethea, forgive me..." echoed Erik's voice again.

"You want me to forgive you?" she mocked through her tears. "Then go away! Leave me alone!"

She waited a while.

There was silence.

Silence.

Erik was gone; exactly as she wished.

* * *

It was only a few moments later when another knock came rapping on her door. "Go Away!" she yelled to whoever it may have been. She was in no mood to deal with anyone.

"It's me, Raoul de Chagny," Raoul's hurt and confused muffled voice echoed behind the door. "May I come in? You sound...stressed."

Alethea waited a moment before she finally walked over and opened the door. "Yes?" she only opened it enough for Raoul to see half of her tear-stained face.

"Alethea? What's wrong?" he tried to push the door open a little more.

"Raoul, please, just—" Alethea stopped mid-sentence realizing that Raoul deserved to know the truth about Christine as well. She was his wife, his horrible, adulterous wife.

"Come in," she breathed allowing him in before shutting the door behind them.

Raoul took a seat on the nearby sofa in the room. "Alethea, what's wrong? You can tell me."

Alethea pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping her face, though it was of no use since the tears continued to stream down her face. "Raoul," she hesitantly took a seat by him on the sofa. "If there was something going on with Christine, you would want to know right?"

"What do you mean?" Raoul suddenly became very concerned and tensed.

With a sniffle, Alethea wiped another falling tear. "Let's just say I know who she is now, truly."

"You mean she told you?" a very surprised Raoul relaxed. "I didn't think she would tell you."

"She didn't have to tell me," replied Alethea in another rasping fit. "I saw it."

"You mean you saw that she was your sister?" Raoul was starting to fall on the hunch that he was misunderstanding the situation.

"WHAT?" Alethea jumped up from the sofa. "What? Raoul! What-What are you talking about?"

"Wait!" Raoul also leapt up from the sofa. "You mean she didn't tell you that she thought you were her sister."

"What?" Alethea felt her head spin, unsure of how to handle this new information. Suddenly, everything in the world didn't feel right. Everything was wrong.

She didn't know anymore.

"Raoul, what in God's name are you talking about? And you better tell me the truth!" Alethea grew darker scaring Raoul.

With a deep, heavy sigh, Raoul admitted, "Christine told me she had a sister who she lost years and years ago. Apparently when we came here, you had such a striking effect on her that she believes you're here sister."

"B-b-but it can't be!" Alethea jumped up gripping her hair and her temples. She could have screamed in agony if she wanted. "I-I..."

"Alethea, do you remember being in a train station fifteen years ago?" Raoul arose, gripping her shoulders to prevent a panic attack. "Do you remember a locket?"

Alethea froze in his arms. Backing away with widened eyes, she plucked the locket out from her bosom. With shaking hands, she carefully opened the locket, revealing the contents to Raoul. "Are you saying that...that...this is..."

"It's Christine," Raoul carefully collected the locket in his hand inspecting the faded portrait. There wasn't a doubt that the child in the locket was the exact image of the child he met when they were younger. "Alethea...you are her! You're Sofia!"

He looked up finding Alethea shaking, her eyes moving from there to there trying to process the truth. She thought her heart was pounding harder than usual. Everything was spinning so fast.

She wanted to vomit.

"Christine was right," Raoul declared, "and I didn't believe her."

"She's my sister?" Alethea tried to compose herself, but with all the truth coming at her so hard, she thought she felt five hundred daggers spiraling at her. First Christine had to kiss Erik. Now she was finding out that Christine Daae was her sister.

When the truth sunk in, she looked up, "She's my sister!" A darker thought sprouted in her mind.

"Alethea, I..." Raoul found himself lost for words this time.

"She's my sister," Alethea accepted the truth, her fists clenched so tightly.

Before Raoul could utter another word, Alethea brushed right past him.

It was time for the truth.

The pain.


	31. Sisters

**Hey guys, there is really no excuse I can make for not updating this story in like a year. I've just been so busy with everything else and I've also started college this year so I haven't been able to find the time for inspiration and to write. Thank you my loyal readers for sticking with me for so long. Please enjoy the chapter. **

Chapter 30

Sisters

Christine had emerged from the darkness of the opera, satisfied with what she had finally accomplished. _'At last,' _she thought to herself gleefully,_ 'now you'll forever be alone Erik. If I can't have you, then no one can, most especially, my sister.' _As these sinister thoughts ran through her head, she felt a pang in her belly where the little one was growing. Looking down, she placed a hand over her belly. "One day," she whispered to her child, "you'll understand the extremes you go to when you fall in love." It was terrible to be promoting such ideas, but the rush of what just happened left Christine in a whirlwind of rash thoughts.

She came upon her dressing room, but as she pushed opened the door, she nearly fainted at the sight of Alethea standing before her in her dressing room. A horrible hallucination that she tried to convince was not real. There was mad rage and fury running through the girl's eyes leaving Christine with shivers down her spine. "Alethea," Christine tried to speak casually, "...what a surprise? I would have half expected you to not ever want to see me again."

"Couldn't agree more," replied Alethea in the coldest and most harsh tone she had ever spoken in her life. "But I believe there's a little more at hand than what you've deceived everyone into believing." She pulled out her locket from her bosom, raising it up high for Christine to see. "Recognize it?" Alethea mocked with a snarl as her eyes turned to slits. "You should. It looks identical to the one you have," with those words, Alethea raised Christine's locket in her other hand, holding the two lockets together in matching set. "I found it."

The adrenaline that was once thrill now turned to fear and intimidation. "Why Alethea, what a beautiful locket you have...I-I guess the same maker must have made both our lockets," Christine was trying to control her voice, but her fear was making it tremor and she found herself shaking uncontrollably. "Wait! You went through my personal belongings? Alethea! That's indecent!" She tried to pull herself together, but she was falling apart at the hands of her sister.

"Stop with your lies!" declared Alethea so passionately and she thrusted both lockets onto Christine's vanity. "Raoul told me the truth! How apparently I am your long lost sister! How you've known all along! You knew Christine! You knew my story about how I was lost and you knew the truth! You've kept the secret of my real identity all along!"

Christine's eyes shot open wide at the mention of Raoul. _'Raoul,'_ she snarled now at the thought of him. Her thoughts of him were interrupted by Alethea who was still staring at her with rage as fiery as that of hell. Christine's knees were still shaking and she almost couldn't support herself anymore. She grabbed onto the door handle as that was the closest thing to her to grab. "W-why...would Raoul tell you?"

Alethea shook her head in anger and disappointment. "Through a misunderstanding as I was seeking comfort from that first betrayal of Erik!" She spat out Erik's name like a disease. "Now I have discovered another betrayal...and from the person I thought was my friend from my _sister!_" The word was such dangerous poison on Alethea's lips; it tainted her soul to speak it.

"And how do you know to trust Raoul so quickly?" Christine pleaded hoping to find some way to stop her plans from unraveling at her fingertips. "Are you sure it wasn't you who misunderstood, Alethea? After what you had just seen, you must have been confused in your head and misunderstood."

"I heard everything clear as crystal, Christine!" spat Alethea who was now beginning to advance upon her sister leaving Christine in too much terror to try to escape. "I remember now too, Christine. Everything. I thought I must have been going insane, but no, I know what happened, I remember. I remember the train station and how I was separated from you and our father. I remember the commission to paint our portraits and our lockets! I'm remembering it all! To think I once used to seek your comfort, but now I would rather be embraced by hell's fire first."

"You're lying! You don't remember anything! You don't know anything!" Christine tried to lunge at her, but Alethea was able to dodge and grab her, forcing her into a nearby chair. Though it was dangerous for Christine to act so irrationally, she couldn't help but try to fix what was ripping apart at the seams..

Alethea circled around Christine as if playing a mocking game of cat and mouse with her. "Everyone here talks about your chastity and purity, but they're wrong. I can see what you really are, a monster! A true monster!" With those words, Alethea flung everything from Christine's vanity, not caring that the locket was lost among the mess. "First, you take the man I love away from me! Now this!"

Christine was fearful at first, but when Erik was mentioned, she forced herself to stand her ground. "He loved me first! You little bitch, you don't know even know what Erik and I have been through. He belongs to me as much as I belong with him! Our voices are forever bounded by the heavens!"

"You think you know everything, but you're wrong!" the tension was growing more and more fierce in Alethea that she thought she would destroy everything in sight. "I know about you, Christine Daae, even Erik told me everything before I even dared to embark on a relationship with him. I thought he was a good, decent man who loved me as much as I loved him, but I guess I was wrong! Are you happy now? At least I spared your husband from the details of your infidelity! You want to know why? So that I could give you the chance to tell him yourself!"

Christine smirked as she heard these threats from Alethea. "You think anyone cares if Erik loved you. He's always love me and only me! And you think that even if Raoul found out what I did, that he would turn me away, especially since I am carrying his child?"

"That only proves how low of a soul you are," Alethea growled when Christine mentioned she was pregnant. "At least that would show that Raoul is a good person, a moral soul that you will never be worthy of because you're a liar!" Alethea was unstoppable as she allowed the words to spill from her mouth. She wanted to cry so desperately, but her anger and frustration prevented it from happening. She wouldn't allow herself to break down now, not when she still had so much to say. "I can't believe you lied to me," her voice was calming more, but still filled with so much anger. "I used to think you were good and chaste too...but I was wrong. You were never my friend. All you wanted me for was to get closer to Erik. Do you even care anymore that we're sisters? Guess what? I don't. I wish I never found out! I wish you weren't my sister, Christine Daae!"

Without another word, Alethea fled from the room. She couldn't allow herself to be any more humiliated than she already was. As she trampled down the hall, she found herself shattering at her core. The tears were only beginning to fall. It blurred her vision, but she continued to walk; she just had to get back to her room. She didn't notice Raoul as he passed by her.

"Alethea, my God, what is the matter?" he pleaded trying to catch her, but she brushed right past him, ignoring his call. Confused, Raoul glanced down the hall in the direction of Christine's dressing room. He could only assume the worst.

There were no words to describe the emotions that Christine was feeling. Angered, tensed, humiliated and ashamed. "What have I done?" she whispered to herself reflecting back on her kiss, the fight and the statements that Alethea made which were only the truth.

"Christine, what happened?" she turned to see a frazzled Raoul at the door. The mess as well as her state in the chair frightened him. "Are you all right?"

Christine was near the brink of tears. "No Raoul," she mumbled as they began to stream, "far from it."


End file.
